One of the good Ones
by PowerSchlumpfi
Summary: Two weeks had passed since he'd come back and the realization that almost everything had changed during his absence had dawned quickly on him. But maybe change wasn't so bad after all. Maybe it was exactly what he needed to be happy? Then again, sentiment wasn't really his special subject. "People might disagree with me, but you are one of the good ones, Sherlock Holmes." SHERLOLLY
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: After The Sign of Three I felt the strong need to write something. A Sherlolly something. And here it is. I don't know how many Chapters this will have, I haven't planned it completely yet. Please excuse my grammar errors - I'm not a native speaker and I haven't had a beta, so please be kind. I hope you enjoy the first chapter! _**

_Boring. Silent. Too silent. _

Sherlock Holmes was restless. He paced around the living room in 221B, wearing jimjams and a shiny, dark blue dressing gown. He jumped on the couch and lied down, limbs hanging over the edges. Two weeks. Two weeks had passed since he'd come back and the realization that almost everything had changed during his absence had dawned quickly on him. He was alone again. John had moved out and didn't intend to come back someday. On the contrary, he was about to get married to his new girlfriend. Mary. Sherlock really didn't want to like her, but he had to admit that he did.

It bothered him. Before he met John, he'd never felt lonely. That was because he never knew how it felt like not to be lonely. Now that he knew he _did_ feel lonely. The silence in the flat made him mad and disabled his brain cells. He couldn't think properly. He _hated it _when that happened. His brain was the only thing he could always rely on. If it didn't work properly, he felt uncomfortable with himself.

Moaning in frustration, he stood up with a fluent move of his legs and picked up his phone from his desk.

_Need your help. SH_

John replied only seconds later.

_Sherlock I know you're just bored. Find yourself a hobby. I'm busy. JW_

Sherlock frowned at his text. He felt the strong urge to poke his tongue out at him like a stubborn five-year-old.

_Busy with Mary? SH_

As much as he liked Mary, he still found the fact that she was around quite annoying. On the other hand, he'd always counted on something like that to happen. Most people seemed to want to find themselves a partner one day. Their want to mate and reproductive instinct was stronger than anything else. Sometimes he wondered if he was a nonconforming product of nature. Although he had to admit that he now felt the need for company more and more often and that he even started to like some people. Maybe he wasn't so extraordinary after all.

_Jealous? JW_

Sherlock snorted and closed the conversation. There was no way he would give him an answer to this ridiculous and childish question. He thought about it for a few seconds before he opened a new conversation.

_Would you like to come over? SH_

Molly needed more time to answer, but she still did very quickly.

_What do you need? MH_

_Company. SH_

He paced again, while he waited for her to answer.

_I'll be there in 20. MH_

A small smile crept on his lips as he laid his phone back down. He turned around on one foot and went over to the kitchen to put on a kettle. Maybe he could order some food as well, he thought. He was actually quite hungry, since his brain wasn't working properly anyway. So he ordered some Chinese take-out and placed himself back on the couch, waiting for something to happen.

Molly needed 30 minutes to arrive at Baker Street, but that was no wonder given the evening rush hour traffic. Even if she took the tube, she'd need more time because most carriages would be so crowded that not one human being more would fit in.

"Sherlock. You have a visitor!" Mrs Hudson announced from the staircase, just before Molly stepped in. She looked around in confusion, apparently a bit unsure why exactly she was there. Sherlock jumped up from his lying position on the couch and greeted her with a light kiss on the cheek. It was another new habit of him. He owed Molly so much and she certainly deserved his respect, so he tried to be more kind with her.

Molly blushed slightly, fiddling nervously with the fringe of her colorful scarf.

"So, why am I here again?"

"To talk to me."

Molly raised an eyebrow in confusion and took a deep breath as realization washed over her.

"Ah, I see. John has moved out so you need someone to replace him."

"No. Again, you're not here to replace John but to be yourself. I'm just…" he stopped and thought carefully about his words "I can't think when it is so quiet."

"You feel lonely." Molly said quietly, more to herself than to him. Sherlock pretended to be oblivious to her comment and walked over to the kitchen instead.

"Fancy some tea and Chinese take-out?"

Molly shrugged. "Sure."

She sat down on the chair next to the desk and looked around in the messy living room. Her gaze stopped on his back as he poured in two mugs on the counter. He had changed. His absence had changed him as well as the time he'd spent with John before. Molly remembered very well how odd he used to behave before he met John. He'd been completely unsociable, but now… he even seemed to _need_ people around him. He offered more physical contact and was less rude with his deductions.

Sherlock gave her a small smile when he came back and put the steaming mug down in front of her on the desk.

"So what do you want to do?" she asked.

"I… don't know. I'm not very good with this." he spread his arms to illustrate _this_.

Molly sighed. The thing was that she had changed too. She had moved on. Sort of. And she'd matured. She'd grown more confident and less shy.

"You just didn't want to be alone, did you?"

Sherlock shrugged and Molly smiled. She nailed it, she knew it. But she was prepared.

"How about a film?"

He stared at her for a few seconds before he nodded. He still felt unable to think properly about anything. His brain felt like frozen mud. So why not watching some stupid film that entertained ordinary people? He could declare it an experiment.

"I have brought one. You do have a DVD player, don't you?"

Ten minutes later, the take-out food had arrived and Molly had put in some new American romantic-comedy that she'd just bought for herself and hadn't watched yet. _Friends with benefits - _quite an interesting title. Molly was especially interested about how he would react to such a topic.

Sherlock had placed the TV on the small coffee table and they were sitting next to each other on the couch. Molly smiled at the unusual situation but was quite pleased. She honestly enjoyed spending time with him. She wondered how long it would take until he was bored again.

Molly observed him during the whole movie but couldn't find any change in his expression, even during the rather sexual scenes. Sometimes he would comment on some things, saying things like "Obviously." or "What does it feel like to have an ordinary brain like you people?" or "Who would really do something like that?". And she would just smile and shrug. It made no sense to start a discussion with him.

When the film ended, he sat up straight and looked at her. "Well, that was rather predictable. But still more entertaining than I thought it would be. Interesting topic. I never thought about that aspect before. Now I may be able to consider it when an applicable case comes up. Thank you, Molly."

She smiled at him. "Well, yeah, see. Sherlock Holmes can even learn something from _Friends with benefits_."

"Can't you?"

"Me? What should I learn from it? If you're talking about the part with the sex, I'm well aware that some people like arrangements like that, but it's not really my thing. As we learned from the film, it also doesn't usually end quite well, so that's fine I guess."

Sherlock blinked a few times and looked at her quite stunned. Normally he was able to predict what people would do or say, people were so predictable. But Molly… Molly never ceased to surprise him.

"What about you?" she asked "Friends with benefits?"

He blinked again and considered her question. He usually used to say that sex didn't alarm him, but truth was that he wasn't all that comfortable about the topic either.

"Well, some people have a very strong sexual drive, they just can't help it. It's all chemical…"

"No." Molly interrupted him mid-sentence. "I asked about YOU. Not people in general."

Sherlock shook his head in confusion. His brain was a blur. No wonder that Molly could surprise him like that. She confused him. She had changed. Like everything had changed. But he knew he had to answer her question. It was a pretty ordinary question for a conversation between two adults, he knew that. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised that Molly had no problem to talk about this topic. She probably talked about it every day with her girlfriends.

"I…" he started, but really didn't know what to say, given his rather non-existent experience with sex.

"Sex doesn't alarm me." he said automatically. Molly raised an eyebrow. She'd never seen him so insecure before. But he didn't need long to pick up courage again.

"So?"

"I just never understood what people could possibly like about that intercourse. I never really felt the urge to do it. Most people are victims of their drives and instincts, they let them lead them – a waste of time, if you ask me. There are so much more useful things to do."

"Well, you wouldn't be here if your parents hadn't done it. Neither would I… if my parents hadn't done it. The human race would die out."

"You forget that most people seem to do it for fun most of the time, not to spread their plain and ordinary genes. Which is quite fortunate – in some cases even more than in others."

Molly smiled as a thought came to her mind. Maybe she could tease him a bit for a change.

"What about your genes?"

"Well, they are obviously not ordinary. It'd actually be shame not to spread them. But without an equal partner it makes no sense – no need to waste them and mix them up with the dumbness of another human being."

Molly raised an eyebrow. There he was, the Sherlock Holmes she used to know. Vain and superior. He looked up and met her unbelieving gaze. He tried to read what she was thinking, but he failed. Maybe his brain was still on standby. Or maybe she'd just learned to block him out.

"Not all women are plain and dumb, Sherlock. Your Mum managed to produce you, didn't she?"

"Never said that. But who would ever be good enough? Nah. It's easier to keep them to myself."

Ouch. Molly shook her head, a slightly hurt look on her face. She _had_ moved on. But it still hurt to hear that she wasn't good enough. Nobody ever wanted to hear that they weren't good enough. Especially not from someone they loved. Liked. _Liked._

Her hands began to shake slightly, as she tried hard to fight her emotions. She was used to his rudeness. And she wouldn't give in. Not anymore. Sherlock recognized quickly that he'd hurt her. He swallowed and looked down on his lap, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"I wasn't talking about you." he said unconvincingly.

"You obviously _were_. You included everyone. So, me as well. But you know what? I don't care. Not anymore. I've moved on. And I know that I am more than good enough for Tom. I'm not dumb, you know?"

"No, you're not. I'm sorry."

He slapped himself in his mind. He'd screwed up again. Screwed up with the person he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't ever again. What was he thinking? Was he even thinking? Or had the silence of his flat already drove him insane? He felt the sudden urge to touch her. To make sure that she didn't hate him.

"I wasn't thinking, Molly. Will you forgive me? I didn't mean to hurt you."

Molly rolled her eyes and took a deep breath.

"You really think that sentence surprised me? I know you well enough. I've learned to handle your cruel words. I'm not the same, shy woman anymore, you know?"

Sherlock smiled now and nodded. "Yes. You're not the same. Neither am I. Or John. Or anyone."

"But that's a good thing."

"I guess it is. I'm just not very good with… you know, _change_."

"You're doing quite well so far. You'll get used to the new situation. It's been two years… did you think nothing would have changed?

Sherlock shrugged. I couldn't quite believe that they had this conversation. He wasn't usually one for personal topics, didn't like to talk about himself. Then again, neither did Molly. At least not to him.

Molly was thinking just the same. Normally she wasn't that confident or open-hearted in his presence, but something had changed. Maybe the fact that he, Sherlock Holmes, had texted _her _because he'd felt lonely. Or maybe it was because she wasn't utterly obsessed with him anymore. Though she didn't like it, he still gave her a tingly feeling in her stomach. When she looked at him, her heart beat faster and a warm feeling spread inside of her. But it was different now, because she'd accepted that she'd never have that kind of relationship with him. Sherlock Holmes didn't do girlfriends and that was okay. She was okay with it. She'd moved on. She had to keep that in mind.

Sherlock didn't answer and Molly didn't expect him to. Sighing, she put out her mobile and looked up the time. 10 pm. Time had gone by fast. Tom had texted her that he was stuck at work and wouldn't come over to her tonight. That had started to happen more and more often during the past month, but Molly wasn't really bothered by it. Sometimes she even enjoyed being on her own in the evening. She would open herself a bottle of wine and cuddle up on her couch, reading a good book or watching telly.

Molly cleared her throat after a few minutes of silence while she stood up from the couch and flattened her clothes.

"It's late. Time for me to go."

She saw in Sherlock's eyes that he didn't want her to go yet, but he nodded.

"Text me if you need company again. Have a good night, Sherlock." She said and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. Her lips lingered a bit longer on his skin than necessary until she pulled back and smiled at him.

She was almost out of the door when he said: "Goodnight, Molly. Thank you for coming. You are a quite pleasant company." Once again, Molly gave him a smile before she turned around and left the flat.

With a sweeping move Sherlock lied down again and placed his chin on his hands, each of his fingertips touching each other. He closed his eyes and thought about his evening with Molly. He hadn't lied. He'd really enjoyed her company. As his thoughts drifted off, the silence in his flat wasn't so oppressive anymore. A tingly sensation crept into his stomach, a complete new feeling that he'd never felt before. What was it? Sentiment? Probably. He didn't like sentiment. Sentiment was a waste of time, a distraction, a dangerous thing that could destroy a weak human being. But he had to admit that it felt quite good. Maybe some sorts of sentiment weren't so bad at all? No. No, he had to stop it. He couldn't let the feeling take him over. It was tingly and warm and… felt a bit like he was drunk. What was it? Molly Hooper. She wasn't anything special, was she? He liked her and she mattered a great deal to him, she was clever but not genius, pretty but not an Aphrodite. She was a quite ordinary woman and still managed to turn his head. He… he couldn't be in love with her, could he? Sherlock Holmes didn't do love. Was that what love felt like? It was indeed quite pleasant. No wonder people got addicted to it on a daily basis. But not he. He had no time for such a thing. It was a distraction, nothing more. He didn't need this. He had to get rid of it immediately. But then again, it was hard to let something go that felt so good. Even for him. There was an invisible force that seemed to drag him to Molly. Molly Hooper. No. He couldn't be in love with her, could he?

"They were a couple from Cardiff on vacation in London." Lestrade stated looking over the two dead bodies in the king sized hotel bed in front of them.

"Not necessarily a couple. Maybe they were friends with benefits." Sherlock said as he looked around in the room. "Or they had an affair."

John and Lestrade gaped at him as if he was out of his mind.

"What? Some people prefer arrangements like that. Casual sex between friends. Never heard of it?"

"Uhm, we know what 'Friends with benefits' are, Sherlock. Just didn't know you know. You can be quite thick when it comes to that topic." John said, one eyebrow furrowed in surprise.

"Oh, I didn't until yesterday. Molly taught me."

Lestrade's jaw dropped open at this and John's eyes widened in confusion. Had they really understood him right? They changed a few surprised looks before continuing to gape at Sherlock.

"No. Not friends with benefits." Sherlock said eventually, pointing to a wedding ring laying on top of one of the bedside tables. "They had an affair. Both from Cardiff. He was on a business trip in London and brought his affair with him. Perfect opportunity. I'd check out his wife. She was single, so it was probably his jealous wife."

With that, Sherlock left the room and John only shrugged before he followed him out. He caught up with him in the lobby. He just_ had_ to ask him about that 'Friends with benefits' thing.

"So what's going on with you and Molly?"

Sherlock stopped in his tracks and stared at his friend. His heartbeat accelerated and the tingly feeling spread once again over his body. It was quite annoying. Even more so if it didn't feel that good.

"Nothing? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Friends with benefits?"

Relieve flushed over his body and he grinned at John's confusion. Sometimes he forgot that he needed to explain almost everything to these ordinary people. He really thought he and Molly… didn't he? It was actually quite amusing.

"Oh! Yes, we watched that film together. Some stupid romantic comedy, very predictable, but admittedly more entertaining than I thought."

John shook his head and laughed in amusement. Had he really thought it would be something else? That Molly hat actually _taught_ him? Sherlock frowned.

"A film. Of course. I really could have come to that conclusion myself."

"What? Do you think I couldn't have a friend with benefits?"

John laughed even harder now. "You? Sorry but that is…" He wasn't even able to finish his sentence because he laughed so hard. Sherlock glared at him. He didn't like it when people made jokes about his sexuality or rather lack of sexuality. Not that he really cared. But he didn't like people laughing at him in general. Then again, who did?

He turned up the collar of his coat, put his hands in his pocket and turned around to leave the hotel in a fast and steady pace. John almost ran to keep up with him.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. It's just that… you never talk about things like that. Nobody knows if you… with whom you… you know? I don't even know if you prefer men or women."

Sherlock took a deep breath and kept his pace.

"Why do you people always want to talk about sex and relationships? Why is it even important? Love here, love there. Bloody sentiment. Bloody annoying feelings. They are distracting and unnecessary." Sherlock growled and John gaped at him once more. He was an even bigger mystery to him today than usual.

"Whoa, okay. Calm down. It's not like I'm constantly talking to you about that stuff. Nobody does. And I've once again discovered why."

Sherlock drew another deep breath and glanced at John next to him. He slowed down a bit and ruffled his hair in a frustrated gesture.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"What's wrong, Sherlock? You're on the edge. You don't relapse, do you?"

"No. No, I'm alright. I'm always alright."

"You don't seem to be alright."

Sherlock stopped walking and leaned his back against a house wall. He sighed and looked up to the grey sky. It was a rainy day, dusty and uncomfortable.

"I might be in love."

John brought out a noise that sounded like a mixture of laughter and 'what'. The situation was way too absurd to be real. He calmed down quickly and stared at his friend in disbelief and confusion, while he tried to be serious.

"You… what? In love? With whom?"

"I feel sick. I can't sleep and I have a warm and tingly and quite annoying sensation in my stomach. What is it then?"

"Sounds like love, yeah." John said "You really don't know, do you?"

"I've never felt like this before. It's annoying. I can't concentrate on anything since I discovered it. Bloody sentiment. How can I get rid of it?"

"Well, I guess you can't. So, who is it, then? Who gives you butterflies?"

Sherlock sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He considered for a few moments if he really should tell him. Molly's face appeared in his mind, her brown eyes and her cute, small nose. _Cute_. Where did that word suddenly come from? But she really was nice to look at. Especially when her hair was parted differently than usual - in her own special way - and when she wore that lipstick of hers.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"Bloody hell, you're really quite besotted, huh?"

Before Sherlock could say anything else, his phone signalized an incoming message.

_Are you at home? MH_

Sherlock couldn't help but smiling like a moron and frowning at the same time.

_Soon. Why? SH_

Molly needed only seconds to answer.

_Can I come over? MH_

Without wanting to he smiled again.

_Of course. SH_

John watched him suspiciously. Smiling like a moron. Very unusual for him, but fitting quite well into what he'd just told him.

"Who is it?"

"Uh, just Molly."

"Just Molly, huh?" John gave him a knowing look and smiled in disbelief. Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper? Unbelievable.

"You know that she's engaged, right? We've met him."

"Of course I know. Why are you telling me this?"

"Oh, just to remind you."

Sherlock frowned at that and shook his head. He didn't feel very comfortable with the way this conversation was going.

"Whatever. I'm heading to Baker Street, Molly needs something."

"Sure. Should I come with you?"

"No, it's fine. You better go spending time with your soon-to-be-wife."

John smirked with a mixture of suspicion and knowledge as he nodded.

"Alright, see you then."

And with that, Sherlock got into the next cab and drove off to Baker Street, leaving a stunned looking John Watson behind.

**A/N: So that was the first part of my little something. I hope you liked it! If you found any mistakes, please tell me so I can correct them and learn from them. Until next time! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you soooo much for your nice reviews to the first chapter. I'm so happy, you wouldn't believe it. So, here's Chapter 2 now. I hope you'll enjoy this one too. I have to admit I struggled a bit with the last part, because somehow my writing skills seem to be better on some days than on others. At least it feels like they are. Sounds weird, I know. Haha, well… here it comes :)**

Molly was already standing in his living room when he came in. She stared out of the window, arms crossed in front of her chest. Sherlock's heart started bounding and he took a deep breath to slow it down a bit. It made him quite nervous because he wasn't used to feel like that at all. When Molly turned around, he immediately noticed her red eyes and wet cheeks. She was crying. Why was she crying? A lump built up in his throat as he stepped closer and touched her upper arms cautiously.

"What happened?"

"Tom cheated on me." she said between two suppressed sobs that let her whole body shiver.

Sherlock clenched his fists. "Silly idiot."

She lowered her head and looked down on the ground, a small tear hitting her left boot. Sherlock hesitated for a moment before he stepped forward and drew her in his arms. Molly buried her face at his chest and cried in his shirt. He didn't mind though. He caressed her back and her head with soft strokes up and down to sooth her. He wasn't really the ideal person for a matter like that, but he could at least try to help her. Her tears and her desperate sobs made him want to cry too, which was another feeling that was completely new to him. How could somebody ever do this to her? Sure, he'd made her cry a few times himself, but never intentionally. Sometimes he just tended to say rude things to people while thinking he was helping them. He'd learned, though, because John had told him that he was rude. Nobody had ever done so before, so how had he been supposed to know?

He tightened his arms around her and placed a tender kiss on her hair.

They were staying like this for a few minutes until Molly pulled back again and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't like sentiment… and people crying… or hugging. I'm sorry. I didn't want to bother you, I just didn't know where else to go. Baker Street felt like the right place."

Sherlock reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. "No, it's okay. I don't mind. Would you like to have some tea?"

Molly smiled slightly and nodded. "Tea would be nice."

She sat down on the couch while Sherlock walked over to make tea in the kitchen. She still couldn't quite believe that Tom had been cheating on her for months and that she'd run directly to Sherlock Holmes to find comfort. But apparently he didn't mind. He'd even hugged her and caressed her back. She hadn't expected him to do such a thing but was glad that he'd done it anyway.

A few minutes later Sherlock came back with two steaming mugs.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked and surprised her once more.

"I caught them right in the act. I wanted to surprise him in his flat… well, in the end I was the one who was surprised. And not in a pleasant way, really. Turns out he's been cheating on me for months. Great, huh? I really have no luck with men. This time he may not have been a sociopath, but a notorious cheater. I really don't know what's worse."

"I'm sorry that this happened to you. You don't deserve this. You deserve to be happy."

Molly sighed and looked at him with reddened eyes. He was so nice. Once more she realized how much he'd changed. He'd grown to a better person.

"Thank you. For everything. For being there for me. That means a lot." she said with a smile.

"Oh, it's the least I can do after everything you've done for me."

"People might disagree with me, but you are one of the good ones, Sherlock Holmes."

She laid her head down on his shoulder and sighed once more. Sherlock wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, so that she could bury her face at his chest.

As they sat there in silence, Sherlock came to the conclusion that he liked this closeness to her. He usually felt awkward and uncomfortable when someone touched or hugged him, but with her it was different. It felt good. He was comfortable with her. The warm, tingly feeling was also back and put him in some kind of euphoria. He was in love with her.

Later that day Molly was lying on his couch, sleeping peacefully. At some point her tears had exhausted her and she'd fallen asleep against his chest, so he'd stood up carefully and placed her head down on the cushions. Then he'd placed a blanket over her and had softly kissed her forehead.

While she was sleeping, he started his work. Tom would suffer for what he'd done to her. That was for sure. When he was good at something, then it was at bringing people down. He would find something. Someday he would find something and that day wouldn't be Tom's lucky one. He was so lost in research that he almost failed to notice John entering the flat. Almost.

"Sherlock-" he started with a loud voice, but was cut off immediately.

"Shhh!" Sherlock turned around, a finger positioned in front of his lips, another one pointing in Molly's direction.

John stopped in his tracks, frowned and followed his finger with his eyes. When he saw her sleeping on the couch he shook his head in disbelief and walked over to Sherlock to see what he was doing.

"Is she okay? What happened?"

"Well, turns out famous _Tom _isn't as nice as you all thought."

John looked over Sherlock's shoulder to read the opened website, but it didn't give him much information.

"What has he done?"

"CHEAT-ing." Sherlock pronounced the word intentionally weird, probably to sound cool and random, while he opened a new tap on his browser. "And now I'll find something to make him suffer."

John sighed. "And Molly's okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"Because it's still her ex-fiancé you're trying to destroy. Maybe you should ask for her permission first."

Sherlock frowned. He didn't really understand why it would be a problem, but since John knew better about people, he decided to trust him with this. He didn't want to offend Molly or make her mad at him, so he just nodded and hesitated only a few seconds before he closed his laptop

"Any news from Lestrade?" John asked and Sherlock shrugged indifferently.

"No idea. I haven't checked my phone. I was busy trying to fix what that Tom-moron has destroyed. It was the best example why sentiment is a bad thing."

John raised an eyebrow and smirked, question marks popping up in his eyes.

"So what have you done?"

"Molly was crying her eyes out, so I comforted her. I hugged her and stroked her back. Isn't that what people do when someone's crying? Had to change my shirt after, which is another downside of human sentiment. Crying is wet."

John couldn't avoid to chuckle at this and Sherlock's half confused, half disgusted face. There was no denying that his best friend had changed during his absence, during the time he'd thought of him being a dead man. He'd gotten more human, more sensitive for the people around him. He was still an original and far from being ordinary, but John knew he was trying.

"So… uhm, still feeling sick and tingly?" he asked casually, changing the topic. It made no sense to discuss with him about the sentiment thing anyway. Plus he was obviously far beyond curious about Sherlock's new discovered feelings.

"Unfortunately, yes. It's like a disease. It just won't go away."

"It's her, isn't it?" John nodded in Molly's direction.

Sherlock stood up from his chair hastily, nervously rubbing the back of his neck and trying hard to keep a poker face. He failed. Obviously.

"Oh, don't bother, I already know."

Sherlock was relieved that John had released him from having to admit it out loud. He was already confused and annoyed enough by having to admit it to himself. With an agonized look on his face he walked over into the kitchen and started to make tea.

It was early in the evening when Molly woke up on Sherlock's couch and blinked in confusion. She needed some time to process and remember what had happened, but when she did she sat up, sighed and rested her head in her hands. She had a headache and felt quite knackered.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Sherlock said from the other side of the room and folded his newspaper. "Mrs. Hudson is making dinner."

"Oh! Good, that's so nice. But you really don't have to do this. I don't want to bother anyone of you, really. Maybe I should go home. I know you don't…"

"Molly Hooper, you should know me better. If I don't want someone here, what do I do?"

"Throw them out?"

"Correct. So, please stay. You shouldn't be on your own now."

Molly smiled acquiescently. "Okay, okay. I don't really want to be on my own anyway. How long have I been sleeping?"

"About four hours. No small wonder after all that crying. Emotions tend to exhaust people."

"So what have you done all this time then?"

"First I was looking for a way to make your ex-fiancé suffer, but John said I should ask for your permission first. Then examining that brain you gave me last week. Really quite interesting, considering the age of it. Thanks again for finding that gem for me."

Molly stared at him for a moment, processing what he'd just said. When realization washed over her, she blinked and shook her head.

"You want to make him suffer?"

"Of course. He deserves the worst after what he's done to you. You just have to say yes and I will most certainly find something on him. There's always something."

She smiled at him, still not really believing what she was hearing. He was so sweet. Did he even know how sweet he was? Probably not. A warm feeling overcame her when she looked at him. _Yeah, you've totally moved on, Molly, totally, _she thought and cringed a bit inside. No, she wasn't over Sherlock Holmes, now less than ever and she'd probably never be. The difference was that she wasn't that shy and insecure mouse anymore that couldn't even talk to him properly. She wasn't obsessed with him anymore, adoring him from the far. No, she felt almost equal to him and she knew she still loved him, but she did it without sacrificing her dignity now, which was a huge and important change to her past.

"Thank you, but I have to decline. I don't want to be that vengeful ex-girlfriend. I just want to let it go and stop thinking about it. But thank you for the offer. That is very sweet."

"Well, fine. But it would have been my pleasure."

"Oh, I don't doubt that."

They smiled at each other for a second, before Sherlock stood up from his chair and cleared his throat. "So, what do you want to do? I don't really know what people do to overcome such an occurrence. Mrs. Hudson said something about chocolate or ice cream. Do you want chocolate or ice cream? Do you want to watch another film? I can go and get everything you want."

Molly's smile widened. He really was sweet. That was new.

"Well, that certainly sounds nice, but I don't want to shoo you out and let you be my servant. How about I come with you?"

One hour later, Sherlock and Molly were sitting together on his couch again, eating the food Mrs. Hudson had brought them and watching _Breakfast at Tiffany's_, Molly's favorite. Chocolate and Ice Cream were stored for dessert. Molly really started to feel better. Sherlock was surprisingly kind and obliging and cared perfectly for her. It was a complete new side of him she was discovering and she was sure that it was also the first time _he_ _himself_ was discovering it. He was trying. He really was trying and Molly couldn't help falling a bit more in love with him. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all that Tom had turned out to be a cheating bastard. Maybe he'd never been the one for her anyway…

"A cat called cat. Because she doesn't want to become attached. That's genius. I like her. If I ever happen to get a cat, which is highly improbable because I don't like pets, but _if _it happens anyway, I would call her cat too. It's simple and convenient." Sherlock smiled while commenting on Holly Golightly's cat, something that usually didn't happen very often, but seems to happen more and more often lately. And he wasn't even at a crime scene or in the lab examining dead body parts. He was just talking about a cat in a movie. Molly couldn't help smiling back. She really liked this new, nicer version of him. She sighed when she returned her attention to the screen.

"New York in the 60s. I wish I'd live there. It's so beautiful."

She almost expected some unintentionally rude comment from Sherlock, but he stayed quiet and watched her favorite film. _Her_ favorite film. Sherlock Holmes was watching _Breakfast at Tiffany's _and he wasn't even bored. On the contrary even. He was almost lost in watching.

Thus, when Mrs. Hudson came in to take away their plates, she was quite surprised about the situation she was witnessing. Molly smiled at her when she raised an eyebrow.

"It's _Breakfast at Tiffany's_, Mrs. Hudson. Would you like to join us?"

"_Breakfast at Tiffany's_! Oh, I love that film! I used to watch it in cinema when I was so much younger! Even got my first kiss during that film!"

Molly patted on the free space next to her on the couch to invite the older lady at the same moment as Sherlock hissed an annoyed "Shhh!" and looked at them as if they'd just declared to throw his skull out of the window.

The two women exchanged an amused look, trying hard to stay calm. Mrs. Hudson sat down next to Molly and turned her attention to the film, even though she kept stealing glances at Sherlock and his new girlfriend. She knew of course that Molly wasn't really his _girlfriend, _but the prospect of it was quite nice, wasn't it? Oh, it was about time that boy would find someone to be happy with.

When the film was over, Mrs. Hudson was gone and Molly was full with chocolate and ice cream the atmosphere in the flat suddenly changed. Sherlock was sitting awkwardly beside her, struggling for words. He didn't want to sound inappropriate. Molly sensed his tension but didn't really know what to do or say either. In the end they both found the courage to speak at the exact same time.

"I guess I should –"

"You can –"

Molly took a deep breath and couldn't help laughing slightly at the weird situation. What had suddenly happened? "You first."

"You can stay here if you want. I mean, that's what friends offer friends in those situations, isn't it?"

Molly smiled broadly at this. His new behavior never ceased to surprise her. But she couldn't really stay, could she? It was a tempting thought, though.

"Well, it is, but I don't want to bother you and I know you need your space. I should go home, really. I'll be fine. It's okay. You've done so much for me today I really can't demand much more from you."

With a quick move, Sherlock grabbed one of her hands and started to draw circles on its back. It seemed to calm him down and let him think more clearly.

"Bloody sentiment." he hissed so quietly, that Molly didn't understand him.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing, just… You don't bother me. I'm glad you're here, as unbelievable as it sounds. I'm so good in pretending I have no feelings and I really wish I wouldn't, but other than Mycroft I actually _have_ feelings. They annoy me and I don't like them, but I can't get rid of them."

Molly stared at him, surprised and curious about what he was trying to say. She blinked a few times while trying to process his words. She knew him well, but he rarely talked about his personal thoughts or feelings. How was she supposed to react now?

"I happen to like you, Molly and I care about you. I wouldn't feel at ease if you go home alone."

He looked her directly in the eyes and she noticed the honesty of his expression, but also the uncertainty that laid underneath. He wasn't used to situations like that. His words gave her butterflies and let her heart melt like wax. But she knew that she needed to go home now. For their both sakes. Without looking away, she pulled her hand away from him and smiled gratefully. He's done so much for her, more than she ever thought he was capable of.

Sherlock knew she wouldn't stay. Of course not. Molly was an independent woman now that knew exactly what she wanted. Well, most of the time. He was well aware of the feelings she still had for him, recognized every single glance she gave him and every admiring smile in his direction. That was something that hadn't changed. But at the same time it had changed completely. Her affection was different now. _She_ was different now. She was no longer nervous and shy in his presence, instead she was confident and completely comfortable being around him. This new version of her stunned him again and again and left him with that annoying feeling in his stomach. And of course he remembered what she'd done for him. She'd trusted him when nobody else - except John - did. She'd risked her job for him and he knew of course who much she loved her work. Molly was a true friend. She knew him, knew his quirks and rudeness and that he was an ignorant asshole. But she still wanted to spend time with him, still loved him. Loved him. Did she? Did anyone? Did he even want to be loved? Mycroft always told him that sentiment and _love _were bad things. There were no advantages of being sentimental. But what if he was wrong? What if he _wanted_ that? If he _needed _that? Despite the disadvantages? No. No. Why in hell would he ever want that? Why in hell would anybody ever _love_ him anyway?

"You are a very good friend, Sherlock." Molly said eventually as she stood up. "But you know I have to go."

Sherlock nodded and rose from the couch to hug her a bit awkwardly.

"Oh, come on, let me hug you properly." Molly laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him tightly. His heart was bounding against her chest, but she pretended to be oblivious about it. She knew it already made him uncomfortable without her pointing it out or making a joke about it. Also, she was quite surprised. Did she really make him nervous?

After a few seconds she pulled away and smiled. Sherlock returned it, but it didn't really reach his eyes. Something seemed to bother him. Molly decided that now wasn't the time to wonder what it was. She'd already enough problems to handle herself. And so, even if she was curious and even if it was against her need to help everyone she loved, she said goodbye.

"See you in the lab?"

"Most certainly."

Then she turned around and left him once again on his own.

When Molly entered her empty flat, a depressing feeling overcame her and she could only manage to pull off her shoes before she fell on her bed, trying hard to blink away her tears. Somehow her life wasn't at all going the way she'd planned. Every man she came close to seemed to turn out being an absolute disaster – be it a criminal mastermind or a notorious cheater – and the one she wanted most she knew she could never have. Still, her hope never ceased.

In some moments she wondered if she was wrong. In those moments, when Sherlock's heart was bounding against her chest or when he smiled at her in his own special way. Or when he told her he cared about her. Then again, she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't _like that_. He wouldn't simply fall in love with all of a sudden, would he? He wouldn't just change who he was and become more _ordinary_ when it came to relationships.

Sighing, she turned on her side and closed her eyes. Maybe, someday, she would wake up from that nightmare that was her life. Someday. Maybe…

It took her a while to fall asleep that night and when she finally did, she drifted off into a world of weird dreams that kept her unsettled the whole night.

**A/N: That's it. Chapter 2. I hope you liked it as much as you liked the first one. Again, if you find any mistakes/ grammar errors please tell me – I'm studying English and I'm always happy to erase mistakes and learn from them. I've already written a part of the next Chapter, so stay tuned! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so, so much for all your nice reviews to the last chapter. You make me so happy, really. This new chapter is again a fluffier one, but I've already planned a few darker chapters. After all, Sherlock's life is never just sun and rainbows. Also, since I enjoyed series 3 a lot, I've decided to go along with the canon and make a few changes adjusted to this story, especially concerning Sherlolly of course. I had a lot of fun writing this one and I hope you like it. Apart from that I'm still not a native speaker (unfortunately :D) so there might be a few grammar or word errors. Sorry for that. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Small parts of the dialogue are borrowed from series 3 episode 2 (The Sign of Three).**

It was Monday and Molly hadn't seen Sherlock in a week. She knew from Mary that he and John were busy with a case and really, it wasn't unusual that she didn't see him in a while but she couldn't help being a bit disappointed. He'd been so kind when she'd come to him one week ago and cried her eyes out. He'd even told her that he cared about her and that he was worried about her wellbeing. Somehow she'd thought these two days they'd spent together would change something. Then again, if she was being honest she didn't even know what she'd been expecting. She'd just been expecting… _something._

Lost in thoughts she almost dropped a brain when her phone suddenly made a sound to signalize an incoming message. Sighing, she laid the brain back on the table and pulled it out of her pocket.

_Need your help. SH_

_Of course you do_, she thought and started to type a reply, ignoring her heart bounding nervously in her chest. _Calm down, Molly. It's just a text._

_I'm St. Bart's. MH_

He was fast. _See you in a moment. SH_

The moment really was just a moment. Five minutes later he stepped into the lab in his usual appearance – with long coat and a blue scarf. Molly dropped the brain again and this time only Sherlock was fast enough to catch it.

"Lost a brain by any chance, dear Lady?" he said as he gave it back to her.

"Oh, not just one." she joked as she took it back and placed it into a large, metal bowl.

Sherlock folded his hands in front of him and gave her a curious look.

"How are you? Given that… you know?"

"Oh, fine. I'm fine. Always fine." That was probably one 'fine' too much to sound believably. Given who she was talking to maybe even two 'fine's too much.

He stared at her, eyes watching every single movement, reading her expression and the look in her eyes. He was deducing her. Obviously.

Molly rolled her eyes and held her hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I'm not exactly _fine_. But I will be, don't you worry."

Sherlock gave her a skeptical look, but decided not to push her. He was sure she'd be fine. She was strong. No Tom and no Moriarty would ever bring her down. It'd probably need _him_ to do so. And that was like the last thing he'd ever do, so he could be sure that she'd be fine.

"So, what do you need my help for?"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "John asked me to be his 'best man'."

"You weren't really surprised about that, were you?"

His face gave him away in an instant. It was the same face he always wore when he didn't understand something.

"Oh, Sherlock. When will you learn that there are actually people who care about you, who love you?"

"I did. John told me. He said I am his best friend. Never had one before."

Molly sighed. Sherlock really was an original. With him one could never get bored, just really annoyed.

"Well, then… how can I help you?"

"Uhm… stag night. You can't avoid that as a best man, can you?"

Molly chuckled slightly and shook her head. The thought of Sherlock doing bar hopping and getting drunk was really more than delightful.

"So, where do I come in?"

"Don't want to get ill. That would ruin it – spoil the mood."

Molly looked at him in confusion. Why would he ask her about a matter like that?

"You are a graduate chemist. Can't you just work it out?"

"I lack the practical experience."

Meaning he didn't drink much or often. That wasn't really something new. But she still didn't know why he asked _her_ then. Did he think she was an alcoholic?

"Meaning you think I like a drink."

"Occasionally."

"That I'm a drunk." Molly looked at him with a mixture of pretended indignation and honest confusion.

"No! … No! Of course not."

"Well, I'm sure you'll work it out. You could as well just use Google, you know?"

"Nah. Why would I trust some strangers on the internet when I have you?"

Molly shrugged, a small smile lingering on her lips. She turned her attention back to the brain in the bowl, almost expecting the conversation to be over. Sherlock stared at her, once again struggling for words. She was the only one who had that effect on him.

"Also…" he started "I wondered if you may want to be my companion for the wedding. I mean… now that you don't have a plus one anymore."

"You mean you want me to be your date?" Molly forgot about the brain in an instant and gave him a cheerful look, while he stared at her in horror. Seconds flew by, perhaps even a minute and he just kept staring, heart beating fast in his chest. Molly couldn't help laughing at his face.

"That was a joke, no worries." It wasn't. And he knew. "Of course I'll be your companion."

Sherlock shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes locked on her.

"No… no, be my date. It's the ordinary way to do something like that, isn't it?"

A big and honest smile crept on her face now and she hugged him shortly but happily.

"It will be my pleasure."

Sherlock smiled back at her and nodded to say goodbye.

"Right, then. Lestrade's waiting for me and John at a crime scene and the case really sounds quite interesting. Wouldn't want to miss that. Thank you for your help, Molly."

His gaze lingered a few more seconds on her before he turned around to leave the lab.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked when he was almost out of the room. "John made you do this, didn't he?"

He didn't answer. And he didn't need to.

_Earlier:_

"_Well then, will you ask Molly to be your date for the wedding? Her plus one's gone and women are a bit… well, complicated when it comes to attending a wedding without a plus one. Apparently they feel humiliated when they do. I'm sure she'll be over the moon if you ask her." _

"_Of course she will, I tend to trigger some special chemical reactions in her brain that make her quite addicted to me. Like a drug. Love and affection are indeed like drugs and when people can't have their drugs they get sad and mad." _

_John stared at his best friend, once more a bit taken aback by his answer. He'd probably never get used to that. Sherlock was deadly serious but at the same time ironically funny. And he didn't even know. _

"_How poetic. And what chemical reactions does she trigger in your brain?" _

_Sherlock needed some time to consider that question. When he finally realized the true essence of it his eyes started to dart a bit awkwardly around the room as he didn't know where to look. Was he blushing? John stared at him. He _was_ blushing. Definitely blushing._

"_Doesn't matter. I can't just ask her to be my _date_." Sherlock said after he'd eventually retrieved his composure. _

"_Why not?" _

"_Because I don't do such things." _

"_Molly's your friend and she needs you. Why wouldn't you want to help her? You'd do her a favor. Besides, I know you _want _her to be your date."_

"_No, I don't. I mean… I enjoy being around her and some chemical reactions may try to drag me into her direction, but that doesn't mean I want to date her. I'm obviously not the type for _dating_."_

"_Just do it, Sherlock. You're in love with her, right? I suppose that's the reason why you've avoided the lab the whole week. Why wouldn't you want to give it a try? Consider it an experiment."_

_Sherlock's mind was a mess. The doors in his mind palace blew up and left his whole brain in utter chaos. His feelings drove him insane. It was true that he'd avoided seeing her the whole week. As comfortable as he was around her, the weird sensation in his stomach kept confusing him and he didn't like confusion. Also he didn't know if he could trust himself with her. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. She'd already been hurt enough by that Tom-bastard._

"_I don't want to hurt her." _

"_Then don't hurt her. Ask her." _

"_Is that a direct order from the groom to his best man?" _

"_Consider it as one." _

_Sherlock sighed acquiescently. So he'd ask Molly to accompany him to the wedding… it wasn't a big deal, was it? They'd go there as friends. And he would learn to keep those weird feelings under control. He didn't really know how yet, but he would find out. Hopefully. _

_A wave of excitement flushed over him when he thought about Molly and him going to the wedding together. It hit him by surprise. Oh, dear. Well, that wasn't exactly the start of living up to his new resolution that he'd hoped for. _

"So, what did she say?" John asked immediately when Sherlock stepped out of the big, vitreous doors of St. Bart's. Sherlock kept up his pace and John followed him.

"She said yes, of course. What did you think she would say? Don't ask me why, but for some reason she likes me, you know that. "

"Yeah, but do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Know that she likes you?"

Sherlock kept walking, but he didn't answer for a while. Of course he knew. Realization had washed over him pretty quickly. Apparently there were indeed people who loved him. John, Molly, even Mycroft… and of course his parents. Maybe he should consider ringing them more often. Maybe once a month. Or every second month.

And apparently he was able to love people too. John, Molly. And maybe even his Mum. He really should ring her some time. He understood where Mycroft came from with his argumentation, but truth was, Sherlock wasn't Mycroft. Sherlock was Sherlock and he wasn't as unemotional, calculating and cold as his brother who only seemed to care about Sherlock and nobody else, although he'd never admit it. He understood why sentiment wasn't an advantage, but he couldn't avoid being sentimental from time to time either.

_You're becoming weak, Sherlock. It won't help you, you know? Getting involved with these people. Oh, but you already are, aren't you?_

Mycroft's voice in his head annoyed him even more than his new feelings.

"Shut up, Mycroft."

"Huh?" John looked up to him in confusion.

"Nothing. Let's just get to that crime scene a bit faster. I need work."

They arrived at the crime scene about ten minutes later. Lestrade was waiting for them in front of an old and shabby looking house in which the body had been found. He smirked knowingly in Sherlock's direction, which confused him immensely, but he decided that he wasn't in the mood to figure out what Lestrade found so amusing. Instead, he rushed into the house to find the body, pretending to be completely oblivious about it.

John and Lestrade followed him inside. Thinking Sherlock couldn't hear him, Lestrade asked: "So… does he really have an affair with Molly Hooper?"

"What?"

"Sherlock and Molly. Rumors are going around that they are having casual sex from time to time. You know, because of the 'friends with benefits' thing. It wasn't me who spread this. Some people at the scene heard him and spread the word. Now… is it true?"

John shrugged. "How would I know?"

"You're his best friend."

"Well, if he does he hasn't told me."

And that was everything John said to that topic. He really didn't want to offend Sherlock and knew that he could only say the wrong thing, no matter what he said. So he just shook his head, shrugged and left Lestrade behind. Why were people always so obsessed with gossip? Didn't they already have enough problems of their own?

Sherlock was already inspecting the body that laid sprawled out on the floor in a room upstairs when John came in. There was a large pool of blood around the dead man's head and also a lot of blood spattered on the walls. It was quite disgusting actually, but John had gotten used to it. A crime scene was still a whole lot different than treating injured soldiers or patients, so he'd needed some time at first, but since then a lot of time had passed. He was a different man now.

When Sherlock noticed his presence, he stood up from the ground next to the body and leaned a bit closer to him to whisper: "What's wrong? Why is everyone staring at me like that? Do I have something in my face?"

"Oh, no. No. They think you have casual sex with Molly Hooper."

"Why would they think that?" Sherlock frowned. In the next second realization flushed over him. "Oh, because of the 'friends with benefits' comment I made. Well, that was a bit unfortunate. I hope they'll all recover soon because I need to concentrate and I hate being stared at like that. It makes me uncomfortable."

_And I don't want Molly to be the victim of dirty gossip, _he added in thoughts.

But apparently she already knew what people were talking. Because just as he leaned down again and wanted to start examining the body closer his phone vibrated. Sighing, he pulled it out from his pocket.

_What have you done? Three people asked me today if I have occasional sex with you. MH_

_I'm sorry. It's a _

_No worries. I don't care. But I'd like to hear the story anyway. MH_

_I'll tell you tomorrow. St. Bart's? SH_

_Sure. MH_

"…Sherlock?! Sherlock!"

"Huh?!" Sherlock startled at John's voice and looked up from his phone to frown at his best friend.

"You've been completely off, haven't you? And smiling like a moron again. Molly?"

"Uh, sorry." Sherlock shook his head. "Where was I? Oh, yes, body. He's obviously been a dealer, probably not too important or powerful but of good standing in his area. He's had a double life. Wife and children in a house in Chiswick… two dogs… unhappy marriage. Abusing his stuff himself occasionally. Mostly cocaine, there are slight remains of it on his collar. Incautious. Depressed. Was seeing a therapist. We should talk to him first."

John shook his head at his friend and decided to just let him do his work. Pushing him wouldn't help at all. Maybe he could bring Mary to talk to Molly some time. He'd set these two up, that was for sure.

"Well, then. Let's solve this case."

About half an hour after Sherlock had left, Molly decided that it was time for a lunch break. She wasn't really hungry, given that she was still quite unsettled because of Sherlock's short visit, but she knew her body needed some energy. Aside from that she couldn't really concentrate on her work anyway. She needed some air to process what just had happened.

"_No… be my date." _Be my date. She'd be Sherlock Holmes's date. Was this even a real? It couldn't be, could it? Was she still dreaming? Molly couldn't help getting her hopes up way too high again. She shouldn't think like that, really. A little over a week ago she'd still been engaged to Tom. And it was not like she hadn't cared about him. His betrayal had hurt her and she was still disappointed how another relationship of hers had ended in a disaster.

But then there was Sherlock. In the end it was always Sherlock. Molly couldn't help comparing every other man to him. Every single time. Despite his quirks, his complexity and rudeness she loved him with all her heart, no matter what. Her life, her relationships… everything got back to him eventually. Maybe she should tell him. Not that it would make any difference, but she wanted him to know. She wanted to get the burden from her shoulders, wanted to make sure that he couldn't think otherwise.

Maybe she would tell him. Maybe not.

"Is it true?!" A high-pitched voice wrenched Molly from her thoughts. Startled to the bones she looked up, just to see one of her colleagues - Cindy – standing next to her table, smirking at her curiously. Cindy was blonde and skinny and Molly didn't really like her. The two women were probably just too different. Nonetheless Molly was always friendly to her.

"What?"

"That you got yourself the sexy Sherlock Holmes, you little minx."

"Sorry, WHAT?" Molly raised an eyebrow while confusion took her over.

"So you don't have occasional sex with him?"

Molly blinked. And blinked again. And again. What was this woman talking about?

"Ah, it's no wonder. I mean… you don't seem to be the type… and Sherlock Holmes is certainly a first prize. Certainly a ten. Maybe even an eleven, while you…"

What? Molly couldn't believe the nerve of that woman, really. Who did she think she was? Anger and humiliation flushed over her as she narrowed her eyes at Cindy. Before she was able to stop herself the words were out: "Oh. No, it's true, actually"

"Really? Unbelievable! … Well, then… congratulations!"

And with that Cindy pranced away again, a knowing smirk lingering on her lips. She was ready to spread the word.

Molly sighed and shoved her plate away from her. Why did she tell this woman that she had occasional sex with Sherlock? Was she out of her mind? Truth would come out and she really didn't know if she was able to handle the humiliation when that happened.

That day, two more people asked her about Sherlock and Molly just kept up with her story. It was too late to deny it now.

So naturally, when he came into the lab the next day, everyone was staring at him. Some were smirking, others whispering mysteriously while pointing into his direction. Sherlock was rather relieved when he finally reached Molly's lab. When he entered it she was already waiting for him.

"I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to confirm it. I mean… it's not even true, but there was this really rude woman and I just couldn't help it." Molly took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock frowned at this and walked slowly towards her.

"Sorry, what?"

"They were staring at you, weren't they?"

Sherlock blinked. "Yes."

"Well, they think we're… we're having an affair because I accidently failed to deny it."

He raised one corner of his lips and smiled a bit amused.

"What happened?"

"Ugh. There was this stupid blonde woman. Cindy. I think you know her. And she asked me if it was true that… you know. I didn't answer at first, so she just assumed that it couldn't be true anyway because I was I and you were… you. I just freaked out a bit and told her it was true, when it wasn't. I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be sorry. I really don't care. People are talking about me all the time. I'm the weird sociopath, remember? And she's wrong, you know? You are always much more valuable than a stupid woman who lowers the IQ of the whole building. Especially to me."

While talking, Sherlock grabbed Molly's hand and dragged her with him out of the lab. Molly looked at him in confusion, but he just smiled and kept walking.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm doing you a favor."

That didn't really give her more information, but Molly decided that she'd just trust him. Even though not knowing what he was up to made her quite nervous.

Eventually they reached the lab in which Cindy was working. Sherlock stopped in his tracks and made a quick move, shoving her against the wall next to the door. Molly gasped in shock, as she stared at him with widened eyes. A weird sound escaped her mouth when he pressed his body against her and took her face in his hands. The wild and tingly sensation made her sick, but in a good way. What was he doing?

"Sherlock?" she whispered, looking up into his eyes that were only a few centimeters away from hers. Question marks were popping up in her eyes, but he still wouldn't give her an answer. Instead he just smiled as he tilted her head up with a firm, but cautious grip around the back of her head and lowered his own head towards her at the exact same time. Molly swallowed, unsure that she wasn't dreaming. Her hands were trembling with excitement. When their lips met, she had a feeling that she was about to faint. But she couldn't miss _that_ for the world. How long had she imagined doing this? Kissing him. Because that was what she was doing. Kissing him back in an instant. And god, it felt so good. Sherlock really was one hell of a kisser.

After a few seconds she reached up to cup one of his cheeks in her hand. Kissing him felt so unbelievably good, it was like being drunk and being the happiest person in the world at the same time. She loved him. God, how she loved him. She opened her mouth slightly to welcome his tongue with her own, tenderly, almost shy.

Sherlock had intended to help Molly. He'd wanted to help her proving a point in front of that ridiculous Cindy-woman. So he decided to kiss her until the woman would come out of her lab, catching them right in the act. Because she was wrong. Molly Hooper was worth everything and it was time for that woman to start showing a bit more respect for her.

It didn't go exactly after plan, though. Sherlock hadn't expected to feel what he was feeling, hadn't known how much he actually wanted this. The weird sensation in his stomach was growing stronger than ever before and when their tongues touched it was like something exploded in his brain. Why did it have to feel so good? For god's sake, it was just a kiss, wasn't it? It wasn't like he'd never kissed before. Because he had. A few times at least.

He couldn't help groaning quietly. Molly was about to wrap her arms around his neck, when the lab-door beside them opened and the blonde Cindy stepped out. She stared at the two for a few seconds, an expression of utter disbelief adorning her face.

"Holy crap!" she exclaimed "So it really is true."

Molly and Sherlock jerked and jumped apart. Molly's cheeks were flushed slightly and her lips were rosy. She looked up to the woman in front of her and suddenly understood. Her gaze wandered over to Sherlock, who just smiled and winked at her.

"I have to admit I didn't really believe it when you told me yesterday. But that was one hell of a kiss. Respect, Molly Hooper. I really underestimated you." Cindy winked, before she turned around to leave, probably to tell everyone what she'd just witnessed.

When she was gone, Sherlock looked down at her, smiling slyly.

"You're welcome."

And then he walked away into the other direction, leaving a heavily breathing Molly Hooper behind.

**A/N: Well, I didn't really want them to kiss so early in this story but I was desperate to write it and the complications it's causing so I just did it. After all, it was just to do her a favor. And Sherlock's so unpredictable on the show…one can never know what he's up to next. Also, we all know how gossip works, especially with a person like Sherlock and I really wanted to integrate this. So, yeah, I really hope you liked this one, too. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Once again, thank you for your nice reviews to the last chapter. I'm glad you still like what I'm producing here. Also thank you for all new follows and faves. I'm happy about every single one of you, really. I have another chapter full of fluff for you today because I think we could all need a bit more Sherlolly fluff in our lives before it gets more angsty. Hope you like it! Xx**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Sherlock but I burrowed some small parts of the dialogue from series 3 episode 2 (The Sign of Three).**

It took Molly a while to recover from that kiss. It'd only been supposed to be a gesture to prove a point. Sherlock had wanted to do her a favor. But it felt like so much more.

When Sherlock was gone, she leaned back against the wall, her whole body shaking like a leaf. Her legs felt like jelly and her stomach was tumbling. Did that really just happen? Molly touched her lips absentmindedly, her eyes losing their focus. She needed to tell him. She was sure he already knew, he was Sherlock Holmes after all, but she felt like she needed to do this to be able to move on again.

_I love you, Sherlock, always have. _It sounded so weird. The last thing she wanted was to go back to being that shy mouse that adored him from the far and couldn't stand up for herself. No, she had to handle this like a confident grown-up woman who knew what she wanted.

Since she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate on her work for the rest of the day, she decided to leave early and call in sick. She really needed to talk to someone. But who could she possibly talk to? Mary would probably tell John and she really wanted to avoid that. Her other friends didn't know Sherlock and wouldn't understand. Who else was left? Mrs. Hudson? Therefore she'd have to go to Baker Street. No chance.

There was no one. No one to talk to. She'd have to go through this on her own. Maybe she'd just go home and curl up in her bed under a blanket to figure everything out.

_Sounds like a perfect plan, Molly. What are you? 16?_

Shutting out the voice in her head, Molly kept going. Half way to the Underground she decided that she could need a drink now to calm her nerves. She _wasn't_ 16 anymore, after all. So she stepped into the next pub and ordered tequila. Just a shot to calm her down. Or two.

Molly wasn't one to drink, really. She did it rarely, but when she did, she wasn't one of these weak girls that ended up over the toilet. No. She could bear more than most people.

Unfortunately that didn't stop the hangover the next day too. Instead it made it probably even worse. And actually, Molly woke up with a really, really bad headache the next day. At least it distracted her from thinking about kissing Sherlock. She wanted to do it again. To kiss him. Every day. But she knew very well she couldn't. This was probably the first and last time he'd ever kiss her. Because after all, Sherlock just wasn't _like that_. And he would never change, would he?

* * *

"You did _WHAT_?!" John stared at Sherlock as if he was out of his mind. He was sitting in his chair in 221B and couldn't quite believe what his friend had just told him.

"I kissed her to do her a favor. That blonde woman won't underestimate her again."

"You… you _kissed_ her. How long?" Sherlock frowned. It wasn't like he had much experience concerning that topic, but it seemed to be a weird question. Why would he ask him something like that?

"How would I know? I didn't look it up on my watch."

"Yeah, but was it a long and passionate kiss or more like a peck?"

Sherlock sighed and laid his head back to stare at the ceiling. So that was the real question. Interesting. Apparently it made a difference.

"You mean did I have my tongue inside her mouth?"

"Uhm, did you?"

"Yes."

John clenched his fist in frustration and hit the arm of his chair. He couldn't quite believe that he even had this conversation with Sherlock. It was Sherlock Holmes sitting in front of him after all. Then again, John was in a continuing state of disbelief since Sherlock had first told him that he thought he was in love.

"Oh, for God's sake, Sherlock! Molly really _likes_ you. You can't just do that to her like that."

"Oh, she doesn't just like me, you know that."

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! You gave her hope."

"Did I? I'm sure she knows…"

John shook his head to cut him off. "That's not how it works with women and feelings. How about you by the way? Did you like it?"

"Yes."

"You did?" John frowned a bit surprised.

"Yeah, it felt great. It was obviously just a chemical reaction of my body, but it's certainly something I could get addicted to if I'm not careful. That weird sensation is like a drug. I'm even starting to enjoy it."

"So you love her?"

"You people would call it like that, yeah."

"Will you tell her?"

Sherlock considered that question for a few moments. "Should I?"

"Well, let's see. Molly's madly in love with you even though she knows you and your worst sides and you love her back and enjoy kissing her. What does that tell you?"

Sherlock shrugged at this. He really hated questions like that.

"That we're both victims of our sentiment?"

"No. That you should give it a try. Sentiment's not always a disadvantage, you know?"

Sherlock wasn't so sure about that. He didn't reply anything, but decided to sacrifice a few minutes of his time to think about it. After all, kissing her had felt much better than he'd thought it would.

* * *

The wedding took place a little over two weeks later. Molly hadn't seen Sherlock since their proving-a-point-kiss and it didn't bother her at all. It was probably for the best. Since she'd gotten a taste of what could be, she didn't know if she could trust herself with him anymore.

He'd only called her once during the stag night with John. He'd been totally drunk and Molly was sure he didn't remember a thing about it, so she'd made the decision to just ignore it. He'd said a bunch of weird nice things and if he remembered he'd probably take them back. No. This time she wouldn't start hoping things again that'd definitely never happen.

Sherlock had come to the same conclusion. Truth was, he wasn't one for relationships and sentiment and would probably never be. But with Molly he couldn't trust himself. Molly triggered some reactions in his brain and body that he wasn't able to control and to be honest, it scared the hell out of him. Loving her was nothing he'd planned and he hated that feeling, but at the same time he couldn't help enjoying it. Even if he often tried to deny it, he was a human being after all, with human errors just as sentiment. Sometimes he found himself waking up at night with the strong urge to kiss her again. But like nicotine and all the other substances he used to abuse, he denied himself to comply with his cravings. Then again, sometimes he had weak moments in which he let himself have his dose of nicotine. With Molly it was probably the same. If he saw her, he couldn't trust himself, didn't know if he was able to be stronger than his desires.

He was glad that John had stopped him from visiting her when he'd been plastered after doing bar hopping with him for about two hours. He hadn't stopped him from calling her, though. Sherlock knew he'd said a few things that he probably shouldn't have, but he couldn't take them back now either. He'd just ignore it and really hoped Molly would do the same, because neither of them was ready to face the topic yet. Not when they were both sober.

He missed her. He missed the looks she gave him and that she always knew when he was sad or when he suffered. She just knew. Sherlock cared about his pathologist a lot. More than he liked. But he already knew which path he was going, because he'd already been through it once. When he'd allowed himself to love and care about John. In a whole different way than Molly of course, even though there were intersections. It wasn't like he didn't _know_ he loved her because he did – John had confirmed that much when he'd described his feelings to him – but acknowledging it in his mind and admitting it was a whole different thing.

Over the past few years he'd started more and more to care about people and every time he realized that a new one was added to his list he got unwillingly anxious. Very few made it on his list of people he really loved. John was on there. And his Mum, obviously, since his human nature forced him to put her on there. Maybe even his Das and Mycroft, also because he was forced to add them. And now there was Molly Hooper.

When he knocked on her door that day he was beyond nervous. It was another annoying reaction of his body. But he noticed quickly that Molly was just was nervous as he was and calmed a bit down.

"Sherlock! Long time no see. You look good." Molly tried her very best to sound calm and confident. And she really did quite well. Sherlock wore his Best-Man-Tux with a flower in his chest pocket and a big top head under his arm. He really looked gorgeous.

"You… too. Very well. Yellow… suits you."

Molly gave him a shy smile and touched the big, yellow bow on her head.

"But do you really want to wear that bow?"

She hit his upper arm for that comment. "Hey! I like the bow."

"Well, of course you do."

Sherlock grinned. It was funny because the ridiculous bow actually suited her. He knew she liked it, because it was representing who she was. Molly and the yellow bow. Just like him and his coat.

"So, uhm…" he cleared his throat "How have you been? Any further problems with that Cindy-woman?"

Molly giggled and shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Cindy wants to be my friend all of a sudden. Just like most of the other women at St. Bart's. It's like you glamorized me or something."

"It's been my pleasure."

"Oh, yeah, mine too." She smiled at him and Sherlock held out his arm for her.

"Ready?" he asked and Molly nodded. She linked her arm with his, closed the door behind her and let him lead her to the cab waiting on the street.

* * *

It was a nice wedding ceremony and Molly couldn't help shedding some tears. John and Mary were so happy, it almost hurt. Sherlock did his job quite well and didn't even forget the ring. From time to time he even forced a smile on his face. Molly knew he couldn't smile by heart at the ceremony because he didn't really understand the beauty and importance of it, but it was obvious that he tried. He wanted to be there for John and wanted to be a good Best Man, because he knew it meant a lot to his friend.

After the ceremony she lost the sight of him for a few minutes and when she found him again, he was standing in front of the church, talking to the bridesmaid. When she came closer, she heard her saying something like "But no sex, okay?"

"Uhm…sorry?" he replied.

Molly decided that was a good moment to step beside him. Sherlock gave her a thankful look and one corner of his lips twitched slightly upwards.

"Janine, this is Molly Hooper, she's my…my…"

"Date." Molly reached out to shake the bridesmaid's hand.

"Oh! Really _nice _to meet you."

Again a woman who seemed to look down on her. Molly couldn't quite believe it. She knew she wasn't a vamp with long legs, big breasts and the body of a model but she felt good about who she was and what she looked like. She wasn't an ugly duckling. And she was sick and tired of women like the one in front of her who thought they were better than her. So she stiffened a bit and straightened up.

"Yeah, you too."

"Well, since you're already taken I don't have to worry about the obligatory bridesmaid - best man sex at least." Janine winked at him and Molly rolled her eyes.

Sherlock then started to deduce someone – probably to help Janine finding a partner for the night - and Molly drifted off with her thoughts. The ceremony's been so beautiful and she couldn't help being a bit wistfully. She'd already started to plan her own wedding, when the whole thing with Tom came crushing down on her. They'd already set a date. A summer wedding. Just as she'd always imagined. But know it wouldn't happen. It'd probably never happen.

At least she could go through the day with Sherlock as her date. She really didn't know what she'd have done without anyone by her side. It'd have been so humiliating. Everyone would just have asked her what happened and why she wasn't engaged anymore. Not that they wouldn't ask now too, but at least she didn't seem so pathetic.

"Mr. Holmes, you're going to be incredibly useful." Janine's voice brought Molly back to reality. The woman had linked her arm with his and smiled contently. Molly didn't like it. She didn't like it at all. She didn't like that woman. Not. At. All. It was pathetic, she knew it, but she couldn't help the jealousy bubbling up inside of her.

She shot her an angry look and Janine shrugged and released his arm again. She did at least so much. Molly knew that she still positioned herself above her, but she had enough decency to let go of him when his 'date' for the day was watching her.

"She's obviously desperate to have sex tonight. She told me she didn't want to have sex with me when she obviously did. By saying she didn't want to, she tried to activate my male instincts. Clever, but unfortunately inefficiently wasted on me." Sherlock said when Janine was gone. "Maybe it's good to have you here as my 'date'. Keeps the desperate single women away." He stressed the word 'date' so weirdly that it almost sounded offending.

Molly crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him.

"You know that was rude, do you? Is that the whole purpose of me being here? To keep you from having to brush other women off? Well, thank you so much, Sherlock Holmes."

She didn't know why she was so furious all of a sudden. It was probably a mixture of that Janine-woman and her own frustration. Sherlock's unintentionally rude comment had just been too much for her to bear for the moment. So she just marched off and let him alone.

Molly didn't expect him to follow her, but much to her surprise he ran after her and grabbed her arm from behind to stop her.

"What?" Molly jerked around and glared at him once again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. You're not only here because you keep other women away, though that is certainly an advantage. You're her because I wanted you to be here with me. It's true that John made me ask you in the first place, but I don't regret it. It's nice having you around." Sherlock cleared his throat, waiting for her to say something and Molly closed her eyes for a brief moment. As quick as she's gotten furious she calmed down again and sighed. She believed him. Sherlock rarely said such nice things and when he did, she knew it was the truth.

"Well, it's not like I don't know you and how rude you can be, is it? I'm glad that John made you ask me by the way. Coming here alone would have been horrible. So, thank you. And _I'm_ sorry that I freaked out."

Sherlock just waved it off. "Nah, don't be. I deserved it."

"Mhm." Molly nodded with a sly grin on her lips. "Yes, you did."

* * *

The reception took place in a fancy and very classical looking building with big windows, a neatly designed yard and a big fountain in front of it. From the inside it was just as yellow as Molly's dress and bow. When they arrived there, Molly wandered off to talk to some people she knew, while Sherlock welcomed the guests together with Mary and John and inspected John's old army friend who decided to join them, although he was less sociable than Sherlock – at least according to what Mary said.

When he finally had a moment on his own, Sherlock decided to call Mycroft to ask him once again if he really didn't want to attend the feast later on. He told him he'd see what he could do, but Sherlock knew he didn't really want to come.

"So, this is it then, the big day. I suppose I'll be seeing a lot more of you from now on."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock put on a confused expression, even though Mycroft couldn't see him.

"Just like the old times." Sometimes his older brother was a closed book for him. He just wasn't able to read him like most people. Mycroft was way too clever.

"No, I don't understand." Sherlock really didn't. What was his brother trying to tell him?

"It's the end of an era, isn't it? John and Mary. Domestic bliss."

"No, no. I prefer to think of it as the beginning of a new chapter." Sherlock said quickly as it started to dawn on him what Mycroft was trying to say.

Silence. He almost heard Mycroft looking knowingly around his gym room. His silence spoke volumes.

"What?" he asked almost annoyed.

"Nothing."

"I know that silence. What?"

"Well, I'd rather you get back to it, you have a big speech or something, don't you?"

"Mycroft! What?" Sherlock hated it when he did that. Hinting something and then don't giving a proper answer.

"It's what people do, Sherlock. They get married. I warned you. Don't get involved. But it's too late for you anyway." There it was again. _Don't get involved, Sherlock. Caring is not an advantage._

"Involved? I'm not involved." But he was. And he knew it. Mycroft knew it too.

"Noo…" Now he was being ironical. Fantastic.

"John asked me to be his best man, how could I say no?"

"Absolutely."

"I'm not involved." He wasn't. He wasn't. But he was. More than he'd ever admit to his brother.

"Oh, I believe you, really. I do. Have a lovely day and do give the happy couple my best."

At the same time as Mycroft was saying this through the phone, Molly stepped beside him again. She didn't see that he was on the phone. "You alright?" she asked.

Sherlock knew Mycroft had been about to hung up, but now his interest awoke again.

"Oh, who was that?"

"No one." Sherlock glanced at Molly who was smiling at him.

"Ah, I see. The sweet pathologist. I've heard the rumors. Well done, brother, well done."

"Don't… just, don't."

"Oh, by the way, Sherlock. Do you remember Red Beard?" Sherlock's face fell.

"I'm not a child anymore, Mycroft." he said through gritted teeth.

"No. Of course you're not. Enjoy not getting involved, Sherlock."

He hung up and bit his lip in frustration. Why did he have to bring up Red Beard? Red Beard had been his dog when he was a child and he'd cared a great deal about him. When he'd died, Sherlock's whole world had come crushing down on him. He'd been devastated. That'd been the first time Mycroft had told him that caring wasn't an advantage. And Sherlock had believed him. How could that pain of losing someone you loved ever be an advantage? It had to be better to avoid love in the first place, in order to never get hurt like that again.

"Who's Red Beard?" Molly asked and Sherlock flinched. He'd been a bit lost in the memory room of his mind palace for a few seconds. When he realized what she'd just asked him, he frowned in confusion. "Oh, I'm sorry. I could hear Mycroft through the phone over here. He was talking quite loud actually."

"He was my dog when I was a child." was all he said. And Molly didn't push it. She could imagine what had happened.

"Well, then. Ready for your speech?"

Molly was afraid that he'd mess it up. She'd even talked to Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade the week before to discuss what could happen in the worst case. She really hoped he wouldn't mess up. Sherlock could say such wonderful things, he'd proved so much when he'd called her the week before, but he could also be the rudest person in the world. He'd just have to choose the right words. The words he kept deep inside of him most of the time.

**A/N: This one was a bit of a filler chapter, but I hope you still enjoyed it. The next one will contain a bit more 'action' :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks again for your nice reviews to the last chapter. This one's a bit more… emotional, so to say. But I think most of you prefer emotional - and so do I. Sometimes I really have to keep myself from rushing forward too fast. :D Anyway, I hope you like it. Xx**

**Disclaimer: Nope, I still do not own Sherlock. **

He didn't mess up. In fact, he made half of the guests cry with his words, including Molly and Mrs. Hudson. He didn't understand at first that it was a good thing at a wedding and that he'd actually touched the people around him – of course he didn't. So he was just confused by the sentiment he'd caused and asked John a bit insecurely if he'd said something wrong. He hadn't. Of course he hadn't. Molly wondered how she ever could underestimate him like that.

John couldn't help standing up and hugging his best friend. Sherlock was still confused, but he tried desperately to understand and – especially – not to mess up. So he demanded that he needed to finish his speech, that he wasn't ready yet.

Molly wiped away a few tears from her face and smiled up to him. As his plus one her seat was next to his at Mary's and John's table in the front and so was Janine's – but on the other end of the table next to Mary. Molly had to admit that she was quite grateful about that.

Sherlock had even complimented her during his speech. Subtly. But still… he'd said that he was unaware of the beauty, while looking down on her and smiling slightly. It'd made her blush a bit, but most of all it'd sent a weird sensation through her stomach that'd made her once again aware of how bad she was in love with him. She'd never stopped.

After his speech or rather at the end of it he solved a case pretty quickly and saved the life John's old army friend. No wedding with Sherlock without a proper murder attempt. That's how it was. In the end the photographer was arrested and the celebration could continue.

Molly was talking to Mrs. Hudson, holding a glass of champagne in her right hand, when Sherlock came back from finishing his work with Janine on his coat-tails. She just gave him a quick look before she turned her attention back to Mrs. Hudson who was just telling her about her own wedding. Molly nodded every now and then and sipped at her glass. Sometimes she would let her eyes dart around the room, seeking for him, but she knew it was useless. He was probably preparing for playing the song he'd written for John and Mary.

"Oh, Molly, darling. You really love him, don't you?" Mrs. Hudson noticed her absence of mind after a short time and stopped with her story, instead giving her a worried look.

"Huh?" Molly startled and tried to remember what the older woman had just said. When she did, she blushed slightly and emptied her glass in one draught.

Sighing, she put her glass down on a table nearby and considered her answer for a few seconds. She didn't even bother to deny it.

"But I can never tell him. I thought I should… so that I can move on afterwards, but I can't."

"Oh, of course you can! And you should! He needs someone, you know? Always alone with this bloody skull of his… especially since John's gone… he's miserable. He's shooting the bloody smiley on the wall even more than before! I have the police in front of my door almost every day."

"No. It'd destroy everything and I really don't want to lose him as a friend. Took me long enough to even become friends with him at all. I mean, it's not like he doesn't already know but it's different when I tell him directly. Look, I'm not sure how he feels about me. He's mentioned some things when he was drunk but well, he _was drunk_. And I know even if he has some feelings he'd never allow himself to give in on them."

Mrs. Hudson raised an eyebrow but didn't say another word. She wanted to, though. But in that moment, Sherlock stepped on the small stage at the end of the room and announced the first dance of the newlyweds. Then he started playing his violin and it was so beautiful that Molly almost cried for the third time that day.

He was completely in his element and looked so peaceful… Molly hadn't seen him like that very often. He looked like that when he was sleeping. The few times he'd slept in her bed after the fall. She'd taken the spare room then, of course. But sometimes she would sneak over to look after him or to just stare at his beautiful, peaceful face.

John and Mary were soon joined by other dancing couples, but when Sherlock finished his play they all paused dancing and listened to his vow. His first and last vow, as he said. Along the way he accidently revealed Mary's pregnancy and everything was beautiful and pretty sad at the same time.

Sherlock felt mostly sad. Mycroft was probably right. Everything would change from now on. John and Mary would be parents soon – of course John wouldn't have time for _him_ anymore then. It was understandable, but Sherlock couldn't help feeling sad about it. He'd be alone again. Properly alone.

It scared him. The prospect of being lonely as well as his sadness about it. Mycroft was right about that too. He _was_ involved. And now he had to pay the price for it.

At least he'd still have Molly. Molly Hooper. The woman he could always rely on. He looked around to find her in the crowd and when he did, he locked his eyes with hers and smiled slightly. Without looking away he walked down the stage and over to her to reach out for her hand.

"May I?" he asked and Molly nodded.

"He'll still be your best friend, you know? It's not like you'll never see him again." she said when they started a slow waltz.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that."

"But I am. You'll see."

They just danced for a while, enjoying the other's presence, both lost in their own thoughts. They danced through various songs and it took Molly a while to realize what a good dancer he was. She'd been just too lost in thoughts to notice earlier. It surprised her, though.

"You're a really good dancer." she said quietly over the music, looking up into his eyes.

"I love dancing. Always loved it."

Sherlock pulled her a bit closer, just to shove her away right after and let her twist around a few times. He definitely knew what he was doing. Then he pulled her against him again and this time he held her right there. Molly always loved to learn new things about him and that he loved dancing was definitely new information.

The song changed to a slow, romantic one and even though Molly didn't think it was possible, he pulled her even closer and she leaned her head against his chest. His heart was beating fast and loudly in his chest. She felt his breath against her neck as he leaned his head down to whisper in her ear. A languorous chill ran down her spine and she gasped.

One of his hands found its way into her hair and held her head close to his chest.

"Molly Hooper." he whispered. "Thank you."

Molly closed her eyes and tried to control her feelings. It was hard but she managed it quite well for the moment. For Sherlock it was even harder. He wanted to kiss her again, never wanted to let her go. But at the same time he was scared. He was torn between his feelings, didn't know what to do.

_They don't need me anymore…Being lonely again…Just on your own?... I told you not to get involved. I'm not involved…Do you love her?...Kissing her felt great… Human sentiment… Human error. Sentiment is not an advantage, Sherlock… I happen to like you… I might be in love… Sentiment won't help you, Sherlock… Weakness… Whatever it is you are… You're my best friend…The two people I love most in the world… She likes you... Madly in love with you… She knows you and your worst sides and still loves you… You love her back…Never get involved… Caring is a disadvantage, Sherlock… Loneliness... Is loneliness an advantage?...Alone protects me…The one person that mattered the most… now and forever…Domestic bliss… It's not like you'll never see him again… In love with her… human error... Error._

It felt like his thoughts were riding on a rollercoaster. Fragments of his memories were thrown together in an empty space and made a mess of his mind palace.

His breath accelerated and he pulled away from Molly, looked a bit deranged around and suddenly rushed off the dance floor, leaving her alone with the confused look on her face. She ran after him without hesitation, just to find him in the coat rack, leaning with the back against a wall and breathing heavily. He was having a panic attack. Well, that was new.

"Sherlock." Molly stopped in front of him "Look me in the eyes. Do it."

He did as she said and Molly saw the fear in his eyes. She'd never seen him like that before. Acting almost automatically, she positioned his hands on her chest. "And now concentrate on my breathing. In and out. Slowly. Concentrate. Everything's gonna be alright, I promise."

_In and out._ Sherlock blocked the mess that was his mind palace right now out and focused on the petite woman and her breathing. It was working. He noticed how his heartbeat slowed down and how he suddenly was able to breathe again without having the feeling that he was about to suffocate.

After a few minutes he calmed down completely and pulled his hands away from her chest.

"What…was that?" he asked a bit breathless.

"You were having a panic attack, Sherlock. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes…yes. Thank you. I… I never had one before. Bloody sentiment." He took a deep breath. "Mycroft was right. Caring is not an advantage. But he also said it's too late for me anyway and he's probably right. I _am_ involved. I care about John and it makes me… _sad_ that I'll probably never see him again after tonight." he pronounced the word 'sad' intentionally weird, almost as if it disgusted him.

"And I care about you… I think, I…I'm in love with you, Molly Hooper. Don't know why or when that happened, it just did. I can't help it. Trust me, I tried. I just can't get rid of it."

Molly cupped one of his cheeks in her hand and brushed softly with her thumb over his cheekbone.

"You have to stop fighting it, Sherlock. Caring is human. And it's not always a disadvantage. Humans aren't made for being alone. Why are you so scared, Sherlock?"

He took a deep breath and decided that lying to her wouldn't do any good. Maybe he'd be able to see clear again after he told someone what was hidden deep inside his soul. He'd never done that before. It'd make him weak and vulnerable. But with Molly… with her he knew she'd never judge or hurt him. Not Molly.

"_It's distracting. It keeps me from doing what I'm best at. I never understood human sentiment. I never understood why my classmates were crying when their parents got divorced or when one of their grandparents died. Then I got Red Beard. Red Beard never judged me and was always there. I started caring about him and I remember that I asked my mother if this was how the other kids felt about their grandparents and if it was the reason they cried. And I started to understand it. When Red Beard died I felt just the same. I cried for weeks and didn't eat much. That was when Mycroft told me how caring and sentiment wasn't an advantage. It would just hurt me again and thwart the things I'm good at. He said I'd have to decide on whether being sentimental or becoming a great detective. And since I never wanted to feel like that again, I decided to concentrate on my assets and never be sentimental again. And I did well with that until I met John. John was something like a second Red Beard. But this time I'm not a child anymore and I don't really understand most of the feelings I have, they're just there. I think about them and their meaning all the time and it drives me insane. I don't want it. Feelings make everything complicated. They make people weak and vulnerable."_

He wanted to say it, he really did. Except he never did. Not out loud. It was the underlying truth behind everything he did, hidden inside the depth of his soul. Maybe he would tell her someday. Maybe not. But maybe he would.

"I don't even know what to tell you. I feel like I have no control over myself right now." was all he could manage to say. Sherlock shook his head, buried his face in his hands and groaned in frustration. His mind was a blur. He couldn't concentrate on any single room in his mind palace. It was almost like they were all gone. Everything was black.

"Well, you're certainly not acting like yourself. But that's pretty understandable. Look, all of this is obviously new to you. And it scares you. I know you don't like it, but you are a human being after all. You are different than most of us… but maybe not as different as you think you are."

Molly drew in a breath, taking one of his hands in hers and intertwining their fingers. Sherlock stared down on their linked hands and tried hard to find back to himself. He didn't know what was happening. Having a panic attack, behaving like a sentimental wimp. He had to stop this immediately, best by leaving the wedding early and going home. Maybe he could examine the head in his fridge, finally doing that experiment he'd wanted to do for weeks. It would probably calm him down and bring his senses back. And that was exactly what he needed.

With her other hand, Molly reached up and cupped it around the back of his neck, her fingers playing with the soft curls at his hairline. He wanted to go, wanted to say goodbye to her, but the soft look in her eyes held him back.

Molly needed some time to think about what she was going to say. She remembered the short talk she'd had with Mrs. Hudson before. Suddenly she wasn't so sure about her arguments anymore.

"_I'm in love with you, Molly Hooper." _This time he hadn't even been drunk. He needed her now. Needed her reassurance. Maybe she should risk it. Maybe it was time. Maybe… Maybe she'd been wrong about him. Maybe he _could_ change and maybe he even _would_.

Her heart started bounding in her chest. Sherlock Holmes was in love with her. She'd spent years dreaming about it and now that it seemed to be real, she couldn't really believe it. But at the same time she did. She knew it. She saw how he was struggling. His breakdown had suddenly changed everything.

"I love you." she whispered, voice shaking with insecurity. She wasn't completely sure that she was doing the right thing, but it was the decision she'd made during the few seconds of silence between them.

Sherlock let out a desperate sounding laugh that reached neither his eyes nor his lips

"I know…" He blinked and canted his head slightly, looking at her seriously intrigued. "Why?"

"I just do. Isn't that enough?"

He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "It's more than enough."

Molly looked up into his pale blue eyes, once again utterly fascinated and captured by how his unique mind worked – not that she could ever fathom it - and his sheer beauty. He seemed to fall more back into character which was a good thing in any case.

They stared at each other for a few moments. Sherlock was slowly starting to feel better and more like himself again, although the tingly feeling in his stomach threatened to overwhelm him. But he was already used to that one. Molly's hand was still resting on his neck, the other one tightening around his hand.

With soft pressure on his neck she pulled him down and straightened herself up to meet him halfway. She released his hand and grabbed the lapels of his jacket instead to pull him as close to her as possible. When their lips met, she gasped slightly.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist and eagerly returned her kiss, pushing all the warning signs in his recovered mind palace aside and instead enjoying her taste and the overwhelming feeling that kissing her brought about. Her lips where soft and warm and she tasted like champagne and strawberries which he found was an intriguing mixture.

It was a different kiss than their first, because this time neither of them pretended to be pretending it. This time they were both in with their heart. Molly's tongue softly caressed his full lips, seeking for entrance to the warm interior of his mouth. He let her in without hesitation and groaned quietly at their soft but passionate play.

It was then that somebody cleared his throat and they – once again – jerked apart.

Mycroft was standing in the hallway outside of the coat rack and stared at them with a knowing smirk on his lips, leaning on the umbrella he always carried around with him.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock stared back with a mixture of anger, embarrassment and… fear? No, it wasn't fear but Molly couldn't decide what it was exactly either. "I thought you didn't want to come."

"Oh, I changed my mind. It happens, you know. People change their minds." Mycroft grinned again and it was obvious what he was hinting.

Sherlock cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his dark curls. With the other hand he grabbed Molly's and held it tightly. He wasn't a child anymore. He didn't have to justify himself in front of his brother.

"Don't you want to introduce your girlfriend to me?"

"You know Molly."

Mycroft laughed quietly. "Oh, brother, you can't help it, can you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. _I'm not involved, Mycroft." _he imitated Sherlock's voice in a rather unflattering way "Just keep telling that to yourself."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and marched towards his brother, dragging Molly with him.

"Shut up, Mycroft."

Mycroft held his hands up in surrender. "Well, I was always the smart one, while you… always had this liability to… sentiment. Human errors." He eyed Sherlock from his feet to his head, still with this arrogant, knowing smirk on his lips. "I already reminded you of Red Beard today, didn't I?"

Sherlock snorted. "At least I'm not lonely."

"I _am not_ lonely either."

"Again… how would you know?"

Mycroft just shook his head at this, but before he could say another word, John and Mary joined their little group.

"What's going on here?" John asked then turned to Mycroft to shake his hand. "Ah, Mycroft! How… nice you could make it."

"Just in time to find my brother snogging in the coat rack like a teenager."

Sherlock shot Mycroft an angry glare and Molly blushed. John changed a satisfied and knowing look with his wife, just to smile broadly at Sherlock right afterwards.

"At least I have someone to snog. And people who'd find my dead body in my chair before I'm rotten to the bones. People I don't have to pay. And if you'd excuse me now, I have better things to do than discussing my love life with you."

With that, Sherlock turned around to get his coat and then marched off, once again dragging Molly after him and leaving three stunned looking people behind.

"Well. Who would have counted on that one? Sherlock Holmes has a love life." John murmured. Mary bumped her shoulder into his and smiled to herself. None of them would have counted on that. Mycroft needed some time to recover from his brothers little breakout, but found his composure back pretty quickly.

"Congratulations, John." He nodded in Mary's direction. "Mrs. Watson. I wish you the best."

**A/N: I've already written more, but I decided to make a cut here. I hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will be up soon, because it's almost finished. Xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm so sorry for the delay! This one took me longer than I thought it would because I spent a lot of time pondering over how Sherlock would probably react when he's made a decision. In the end I came to the conclusion that he would stick to it and try to act right on it. And that's what I did here. It's once again really fluffy – probably the last fluffy one before it gets more angsty – and I hope you like it! Thanks again for your nice reviews to the last chapter! Kisses and cookies for all of you xx**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the other characters.**

"Fancy a drink?" Sherlock asked when they stepped out of the building in which the wedding reception took place.

"That wasn't really nice, Sherlock. You could at least have said goodbye to John and Mary."

Sherlock just shrugged and waved her comment aside. "Nah, they'll understand. Mycroft can be a pain."

"No. No, you can't just leave their wedding like that. You're the Best Man."

Molly grabbed his hand and tried to drag him back inside, but unfortunately he was stronger than her and just snatched her back into his arms. He wrapped them around her, so that her back was pressed tightly against his front. Molly struggled with her arms to get free, but he was too strong and she didn't want to hurt him.

"Sherlock. Please. Let _me _at least say goodbye."

"Why?"

"Because it's polite. Leaving a wedding early is bad enough. Without saying goodbye? Not acceptable."

Sherlock sighed and loosened his grip around her. Molly freed herself from his arms and gave him a thankful look.

"I'll see you in a minute." She disappeared into the building and left him alone in the fresh breeze of early spring that blew softly through his curls. He leaned back against the wall next to the door and took a deep breath. He was glad that he finally saw clear again. He'd quickly been able to tidy up his mind palace and to sort things out. It was another advantage of his superior brain. There was a new room now. A sign on its door read 'Anxieties and painful experiences'. He'd locked it all away and hoped that it'd never break out again. If he had to have human errors like that he at least wanted to keep them under control. Something like that before mustn't happen to him ever again.

He'd just let one error free. Only one. Kissing Molly and meeting his _pathetic_ brother had let him come to the decision that he wanted to give it a try. He trusted Molly and she gave him a good feeling. He was sick of fighting it and he didn't want to be lonely again. John had Mary… and maybe he could have Molly. At least once in a while.

Before Molly came back out, Mycroft appeared – of course he did - and positioned himself in front of Sherlock who was still leaning against the wall. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, Mycroft?"

His older brother offered him a cigarette and he hesitated for a moment before he took it. His addiction was sometimes just stronger than his will and he wasn't in the mood to fight it.

"Oh, nothing. You always think I want to harm you, but in fact I just want your best, Sherlock."

Sherlock shook his head and laughed in disbelief. He dragged on his cigarette and enjoyed the dose of nicotine in his body.

"I'm a grown-up, Mycroft. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?"

"It's not like I haven't been thinking about it. I considered every aspect of it and came to the conclusion that I want Molly Hooper."

Mycroft looked up to Sherlock, one corner of his lips twitching slightly.

"So you… _love_ her?" he spilled the word out as if it was some very disgusting piece of food.

Sherlock didn't even hesitate anymore. He'd thought about that matter long enough to know the answer.

"Yes." With his anxiety locked away in a safe room in his mind palace, he didn't mind telling Mycroft the truth. Or admitting it to himself. It was a fact, why pretending it wasn't?

"Well, then… good luck, Sherlock. I do wish you just the best."

Mycroft turned to leave – not inside again, but away from the building.

"What, you're already leaving again? You've only been here for what – five minutes?" Sherlock took a deep drag on his cigarette and watched his brother suspiciously.

"Actually, I just wanted to check up on you, see if you're… you know… _okay_."

Sherlock frowned at this. Had Mycroft been worried about him?

"Well, I am."

"I know." The older brother saluted, then turned around and left with large and hasty steps. Just when he was out of sight, Molly came back out, a smile lingering on her lips. It faded, though, when she noticed the cigarette in his right hand. She snatched it away with a quick move and threw it onto the ground.

"Hey!" Sherlock protested, but Molly ignored him.

"I know you have at least two nicotine patches somewhere on your body. You don't need _more_. It's not good for you."

He just sighed and grabbed her hand. "Whatever you say. So, fancy a drink now?"

* * *

It was already far after midnight when Sherlock and Molly arrived at Baker Street. They'd stopped at Molly's favorite pub to have a drink or two before heading home. Now they were both a bit tipsy, but not really bad.

"May I kiss you again?" Sherlock asked intentionally posh when they stumbled through the front door of 221B Baker Street. He shoved her against a wall and she felt his hot breath on her neck, which sent shivers up and down her spine.

"I insist on it."

His lips hit hers more fiercely this time, but still lovingly and not too hasty. He pulled away again after a few moments. "I'm getting better with this, right?"

"Oh, you were never really bad, you know?"

Smiling, he grabbed her hand and dragged her upstairs with him and straight into his bedroom.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Molly stopped right there and stared a bit insecure around. She'd never been in his bedroom before.

"Let's see if I'm that good with other things too?"

"Uhm… Sherlock, are you sure? I'm mean… have you even…?"

"Have I even what?"

He started to kiss her neck and Molly had to force herself to concentrate on what she wanted to say. It was pretty hard, though.

"Have you done this before?"

He didn't stop nuzzling her neck and her cleavage. Why did it have to feel so good?

"No."

"So you're a virgin?"

He still didn't stop.

"Yes."

"And you want to do this _now_? With me?"

"Yes."

"Why… I mean, don't you think we should wait or something? This is kind of a big deal and… I really don't want to rush things and…"

Sherlock reached up with one hand and removed the bow from the back of her head. The other hand opened the zipper on the back of her dress. He cut her off mid-sentence.

"Oh, please. I'm a 36 year old virgin, I've waited long enough."

"Fair enough. Still… look, I just broke up with Tom and things between us a rather… really, _really _fresh and…"

"Shhh!" Sherlock silenced her with a soft but firm kiss on her lips. Her loosened dress was sliding down her shoulders and over her arms before it fell to the ground and revealed her white, strapless bra and her matching panties made of fine lace. He stepped back a bit to eye her from bottom to top. The tingly feeling from his stomach spread downward and filled him with pleasurable warmth. Was that how people felt when they were aroused?

He reached out and touched her waist, enjoying the soft skin under his fingertips. Molly held her breath. She didn't plan on sleeping with him tonight, it'd just be way too soon, but he really didn't make it easy for her.

"Sherlock." she murmured "It's too soon."

"Is it?"

His hands were roaming up and down her back and her stomach, her arms and even her chest, to explore everything that was so new to him.

"It is."

"But I want this. I want you." Molly closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her control.

"Well. Time to learn that you can't always get what you want. I'm not saying we have to stop now, just… no sex yet, alright?"

Sherlock watched her face carefully for a moment before he nodded. She smiled slightly and took his hand to lead him over to the bed, where she sat down and dragged him with her, so that she fell backwards and he landed on top of her.

"And your really haven't done it before?"

"Nope."

"Wow. I mean… I always assumed… but knowing it for sure… and knowing you want me now out of all people…"

"Why would I want to do it with anyone else? Like I told you a few weeks ago, I never understood what people could possibly like about _this._ I thought it's just a waste of time. Until now. I somehow found my instinctive human sex drive because of you. I didn't even know I had one."

Molly giggled quietly. "Yeah. I can feel that."

Sherlock blinked a few times before he finally understood what she meant.

"Yes. Sorry about that. It's out of my control at this point."

"Of course it is and it's perfectly fine, really."

Smiling up to him, she started unbuttoning his shirt. He leaned over her, his beautiful eyes that seemed to change their color with the light gazing softly down on her.

She pushed his shirt over his shoulders and pulled him down to her to kiss him passionately on the lips. When their naked skin touched it felt like soft electric shocks that made them both shiver.

Molly's hands were roaming over his back, caressing every little part of it. Eventually, she managed with a quick move to change their positions, so that she was sitting on top of his hip. She smiled slyly down on him. "Okay, I'll give you another treat. But that's enough for today then."

She opened her bra with a quick move of her hands and threw it over her shoulder. Sherlock couldn't help staring at her perfectly round formed breasts. They weren't extremely small, but also not extremely big. They were perfect and Sherlock found he liked the sight of them.

His fingers touched them cautiously, almost afraid to hurt her. When he noticed that that wasn't the case and that she even seemed to like it, he smiled and pulled her down to kiss her. He gasped when her breasts touched his chest. It felt right, exciting, almost like the feeling of being high he'd once been addicted to. He finally started to understand what people might like about intercourse.

Eventually, when they both were too tired to move, Molly rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. It felt like she was exactly where she belonged. They fell asleep in that position, both quite satisfied with how well that day had turned out in the end.

* * *

The next day started quite peacefully. When Molly opened her eyes, she needed a few seconds to realize where she was and what had happened. Her head was resting on Sherlock's chest, his soft skin feeling warm under her cheek. She turned her face down and took in his scent. He was still asleep and Molly didn't want to wake him up, so she made sure that she'd never forget this moment, took it in to its very essence, before she disentangled herself carefully from his arms and slipped out of the bed. Being slightly cold, she picked his shirt up from the ground and put it on.

Buttoning it up, she slipped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, just in time to run directly into Mrs. Hudson, who was carrying a tray with tea and breakfast for Sherlock.

She startled and almost dropped it, when she noticed the presence of a person in the room that wasn't Sherlock. Molly blushed and smiled at the elder woman. Mrs. Hudson needed a few seconds, but when she realized that it was Molly who was standing in Sherlock's kitchen, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, she smiled broadly and winked knowingly at her.

"Oh, Molly, dear! You almost gave me a heart attack."

She put the tray down on the table.

"What made you change your mind? I can't even express how happy I am for the two of you. It was about time for Sherlock, you know…"

"Actually it was him who changed his mind." Molly leaned against the table, fumbling with the hem of the shirt she was wearing. She straightened it to make sure it covered the whole of her bum. "I just adjusted to it."

"I always thought he was in love with John, you know? It hit me by surprise that he was about to marry a _woman_! I had this friend once, she was very active in 1968, you know… well, she was just the same. Men, women, she really didn't care. And you young people to today are so _permissive…and sexually explicit!_"

Molly chuckled quietly at this. "Oh, sorry to let you down on this, but I doubt John ever was gay. And neither was Sherlock."

"That's what John's always insisting on. But I don't quite believe him to be honest."

"You should, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock's voice suddenly appeared in the background and only seconds later he stepped into the kitchen. He was only wearing his grey pyjama bottoms and a dressing gown. "John may have some gay tendencies sometimes, but he's still straight. Just like you've been an exotic dancer, even though you don't look like it at all."

Mrs. Hudson raised an eyebrow and looked quite appalled.

"Sherlock! If you've been youtubing…"

She waved about with her arms, struggling for words, but soon realized that she didn't find any and left the room with a frustrated groan.

"She was an exotic dancer?"

"Yep." Sherlock popped the 'p' while he picked up the breakfast tray and carried it over into the living room, where he put it down on the small coffee table between the two big chairs. Molly followed him. "And she was a temp in her husband's drug cartel."

"Wow. Wouldn't have expected _that_."

Molly sat down in John's chair and Sherlock reached her a cup of hot and steaming tea, before he sat down in his chair on the opposite of her.

"So… how are you? Have you slept… well?" he asked and Molly smiled a bit amused.

"Yep. Better than ever."

"Hm. Me too. The direct presence of another human being seems to have a soothing effect on sleep. It's quite interesting, actually."

"And… you haven't changed your mind again?"

Sherlock frowned. "Why would I?"

Molly tucked her legs up in the chair and warmed her hands at her cup. She gave him an understanding smile.

"Well, yesterday was quite… unsettling and very emotional and you changed your mind pretty quickly about everything. In one moment you were having a panic attack – being loaded with anxiety because all these feelings were too much and too new to you and then… suddenly you stepped up for yourself in front of your brother and wanted to snog all the time. You even wanted to go further. It was quite confusing, actually. Don't get me wrong, I _really_ liked the last part, but still…"

"I'm a high-functioning sociopath, Molly. Don't judge me with ordinary standards. That panic attack was a dangerous error and I can't ever let something like that happen again, so I blocked my anxiety out. It's there, but safely locked away. I gave in on one error, though."

"And that is?"

"These weird feelings for you. _Love, _I guess_. _For you and John.I still think it's dangerous and may turn out to be a disadvantage, but I can't and don't want to fight in anymore. Fighting it influences my concentration and efficiency worse than giving in on it. So it was an easy decision to make in the end."

"But if you love me and John, you're not a sociopath, Sherlock."

"I am. I still don't understand what I'm doing and why…and why other people do that sentimental stuff they're doing all day. All I know is that I want to spend time with you, that you give me a brilliant feeling and that I'm sexually attracted to you. Also… thinking about losing you or John to death is quite… _devastating_. Human sentiment. A dangerous error."

It was true. Relationships were still a mystery to him. All he could do was trying - trying to establish a new routine, a new way of handling their interactions. Maybe he could watch some other movies for research?

She almost choked on her tea at that middle part. "Okay." she forced out, voice a bit husky. She was still far away from being used to this new version of him and to their new… _relationship_?

"I'll try, Molly. I can't promise you much, but I promise you I'll try."

"And that's already enough for me to know." Molly smiled at him and took a sip from her tea, this time without choking on it. In this moment, sitting in an old chair that used to be John's in Sherlock's flat, drinking tea and watching him doing the same, she felt utterly happy. She'd already accepted that she'd never have a chance with him and then suddenly, when she'd almost started to stop thinking about it, everything had changed. Molly couldn't quite believe how lucky she was. But at the same time she knew she had to rein herself in. A relationship with Sherlock Holmes would never be easy and it wasn't sure he wouldn't just change his mind again one day. Their journey would still be long and hard, but Molly tried to stay optimistic. Everything was looking so good for her right now, she'd just have to focus on that. Worrying about the future wouldn't do any good at all.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, only interrupted by Mrs. Hudson who brought another plate with breakfast for Molly.

"That's so kind, Mrs. Hudson! Thank you so much."

"Everything for you, darling." The landlady winked suggestively at her, while Molly smiled back and tried not to blush. Mrs. Hudson was almost more excited about the recent events than she herself. "And Sherlock – don't you dare hurting the feelings of this wonderful lady. I'll keep an eye on you."

"I try not to. I never plan on hurting anyone, it just sort of happens."

Mrs. Hudson gave him another warning look before she turned around to leave the flat again. Molly changed a smile with Sherlock, took another sip from her tea and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a few seconds. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted into her nose and made her stomach growl. Until then she hadn't even realized how hungry she was.

"You should eat something, before your stomach eats me. It growls like an angry dog or a dragon."

Opening her eye again, Molly giggled and reached for her plate.

"Well, then. Let's slay the dragon. Your loss would be too unfortunate."

* * *

The following days were quite exciting for Molly Hooper. Sherlock won't let her sleep at her own flat, he wanted her to be at Baker Street basically all the time and when she was at work, he would visit her – not to examine something, like usually, but to steal a kiss from her before he headed back for a crime scene or a new client. He was starting to get used to that relationship thing, although it was still completely new to him. He continued telling her about the perks of it – and it was fascinating how excited he became when he discovered a new one. The whole thing was like a new experiment for him that kept him from being bored.

The main advantage – so he said – was the sleeping. Apparently he slept much better with her by his side after snogging for what felt like hours. They still hadn't gone further, but Molly knew it was only a matter of time.

Sherlock really tried to establish a proper relationship between them and really, he was doing quite well. Molly hadn't expected him to act like that at all, but was positively surprised. He had changed so much, it was even more impossible than usual for her to fathom the complexity of his character. She probably never would, but that was the thing about Sherlock Holmes, wasn't it? He was a closed book, a mystery. No one could ever know what he'd do or say next. After all, who'd ever have counted on him falling for _her_? He would never have and neither would have anyone else. Least of all her.

On a quiet Monday morning, about a week after the wedding, Sherlock texted her an address and a few words that told her that he needed her. Frowning, she took off her lab coat, grabbed her bag and her jacket and left St. Bart's without further hesitation.

Half an hour later she reached her destination. It was a crime scene near the Thames, where a body was lying sprawled out on the stony ground, several Agents of Scotland Yard, Sherlock and Anderson surrounding it. An officer held her back at the barrier tape. Sighing, she gathered courage to call for him – she really didn't like yelling across crowds of people, but what was she supposed to do?

"Sherlock!?" she called as loud as she could manage and he turned around in an instant, a big smile appearing on his face when he saw her. He gave the officer a sign to let her pass and the man nodded and pulled the barrier up to let her trough.

"What's wrong? What do you need me for?"

The attention of Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson turned toward her immediately. Unexpected new person at the scene, Molly Hooper of all people, who was said to have an affair with Sherlock, which was rather sensational. Of course they would look.

Sherlock didn't answer at first but leaned down to give her a very short, soft kiss on the lips. Molly blushed and when she looked back to the other three attendants, she noticed all kinds of reactions.

Donovan's eyes were widened in shock and disbelief, Lestrade was confused and amused at the same time and Anderson just grinned like a happy dork. She didn't even try to figure out what was going through his mind.

Molly cleared her throat and looked up to Sherlock, eyes filled with anticipation.

"I need your expertise with that body."

"But Anderson's here."

"I think he's wrong. Also, I wanted to see you."

Donovan's eyes were almost falling out of her skull now, while Lestrade was wiping with one hand over his face, shaking his head – not knowing if he wanted to laugh or scream –and Anderson was hopping up and down like an excited bunny. That was weird.

"Well then. What have we got?"

"Sherlock is right. You _are_ wrong. The shot wasn't life threatening. It didn't kill him. Look, here, the small fracture on his skull. That's the true cause of death. I can't say it for sure, I'd have to examine her in the lab first, but I think he's had an aneuryism in the brain and the shot brought him down to the ground and let it rip. But as I said, I'd really have to examine him properly first. I might as well be wrong anyway."

"Hm. You could be right, though." Anderson murmured. "You are good, really."

Sherlock looked down on her, a proud look on his face. "That's my girl." he said, earning another weird look from Donovan. Molly felt a tingly sensation in her stomach when he called her that. It still felt all felt so surreal, because it had happened so fast. Well… fast after 7 years or something.

"But you could have figured that out yourself, Sherlock. I know you and your skills."

"Probably. But you are the pathologist and thus the expert on that matter. I just wanted to be sure I was right. And since Anderson wouldn't believe me, I needed to prove a point."

Molly stood up and straightened her clothes, giving him a soft smile.

"Well, it seems you have a thing for proving points."

"And you have a thing for helping me with doing so."

"True. But you still kept me from working. I thought you'd only let me drive across the city if it was something important."

"What could possibly be more important than a murder case?"

"Oh, I could name like a hundred things that are more important."

During their conversation they've moved towards each other and were now mere centimeters apart. Molly had a perky expression on her face, once more ready to win every argument against him.

"Okay. I want to see that. You can give me a list tonight after work. I'm looking forward to it." Sherlock winked and Molly kept up her expression. She would win that one that was for sure.

"Deal. I'll convince you, you'll see."

"Ah, I wouldn't bet on it."

"I will." Molly backed up from him, eyes locked on his, a provocative look adorning her face. Her eyes were gleaming with confidence. She loved playing these games with him. It was always challenging and great fun. At the same time she felt more and more on one level with him. And of course she knew how much fun it was for him. Sherlock was one to get bored very easily and without their little games it'd be really hard for her to keep him intrigued.

After all, they'd only made it through one week for now and she didn't even know if they were really having a proper relationship – they hadn't really talked about it yet. Everything had changed so fast – too fast maybe and Molly didn't know where they were standing. She knew he tried and he acted like he was having a relationship with her, but it was as always: With Sherlock Holmes one could never know.


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm so sorry for the delay! It's been a few weeks, I know. And I really am sorry. I blame university. I had exam weeks, which means I had to do 6 exams within one and a half weeks, which was pretty hard and exhausting, so I didn't really find the time to write or upload something. But it's all done now and I finally have more free time again. So I'm back with a new chapter and just like always I really hope you like it! xx **

During the second week after the wedding, Molly started to get a bit annoyed by Sherlock's daily visits. And she missed her own bed. She'd never thought she could ever feel hemmed in by Sherlock Holmes, but all the changes in their relationship were still so fresh and she wasn't used to spending so much time with him. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy it. It was just… too much. After only one and a half weeks she already felt like she didn't have an own life anymore and that seemed to be just wrong. At the same time, she noticed some changes in his demeanor too. He did a good job keeping up his excited and cheery façade, but Molly knew he faked it. He was so much less used to having a woman around and being in a relationship than her that it was just natural that he started to feel uncomfortable. He was Sherlock Holmes and he needed his space. She knew that. And that was why she needed to talk to him as soon as possible. Things would fall apart very soon if they kept up their relationship like it was right now.

So when he came into the lab that day Molly was ready to ask him what he was doing and why. Because that was the big question, wasn't it? He wasn't acting like himself, he forced himself to come in and to spent so much time with her.

Leaning against the working counter, arms crossed in front of her chest, she stared at Sherlock in anticipation. He raised an eyebrow at her expression, not quite sure what this was all about. Usually she was examining some parts of a body when he came.

"Hey." she smiled slightly, but a bit forced. Sherlock made an attempt to deduce her, but for some reason he failed miserably.

"Okay. What's the matter?"

"Well… that's the question, huh? What's the matter?"

Question marks were popping up in Sherlock's eyes as he struggled to find a good reply that didn't let him seem like a silly dork who didn't understand a thing. Molly noticed that of course and continued with a small smile on her lips: "Look. It's obvious that you don't want to come here every day when you have nothing to examine and that's perfectly understandable. It's also obvious that you need your space and - despite the sleeping thing - don't want me in your flat all the time. Again, understandable. So the real question is: Why are you doing this?"

"Isn't that what you expect me to do?"

"What? No! Not at all, Sherlock. First of all, I like my bed, but I couldn't sleep in it in a week because you won't let me go home. It's only been a week! That's so not how it is supposed to be, really. We are definitely not in that phase yet, but for some reason you try to rush everything. Second of all, I want you to be yourself, because that's the version of you I fell in love with. I don't want you to do or say things you don't like. And third of all, after only one week I already feel sort of… hemmed in. And that is just wrong. Also… don't get me wrong, but I really need to clarify that once and for all: Am I even your girlfriend?"

"I thought that was obvious." Sherlock looked a bit uncomfortable around in the lab, hands tucked away in his coat pockets. "I sort of tried to make it right, but apparently I failed. I'm really bad with those kinds of things, you know… _relationships_."

"Well, stop trying so hard and just be yourself. We will find our own way, Sherlock. All of this still seems so surreal to me, but I'm sure we'll make it work. Just not like that." She paused and made a few steps until she stood right in front of him, mere centimeters apart. "You know, I'm just as scared as you are."

"Scared? I'm not scared." His answer came automatically and Molly was sure he'd said these few words very often in his life. _Scared? I'm not scared, Mycroft. Involved? I'm not involved._

"But you are and it's really no shame."

Sherlock grabbed one of her hands and pulled it up to place his lips upon its back.

"Well, it's quite a relief, to be honest. I already started to wonder how people keep up this kind of relationship over years. The first days were exciting, like a new experiment, but then it got dull and quite annoying."

"You're not used to it and it's fine, really. I need my space too. Let's talk about seeing each other every day and every night in one year or so again. It'll be different then. But for now… just do what you're comfortable with."

It was obvious how relieved Sherlock was. And Molly was glad that she'd brought up the courage to start the topic. This relationship meant so much so her and she really didn't want to mess it up. They'd started on the wrong foot, but that wasn't that big of a surprise, since Sherlock had no real experience with the whole thing and she a bad habit of falling for the wrong men who messed up everything in the end. Sherlock wouldn't be one of them, she hoped.

There was an awkward moment of silence between them, until Molly decided to change the topic. Everything important had been said.

"So… have you heard from John already?" she asked casually.

"Nope. He and Mary are still on their sex vacation. They'll be back in London next week I think."

While he was speaking, he wrapped his arms around her petite body and buried his nose in her hair. It scented of vanilla and cinnamon, sweet, just like she was. It reminded him of the first time he'd met her, all those years ago. The scent had always stuck with him since then and she'd never changed her shampoo. She'd been so different then. She'd been inconspicuous, a grey little mouse, a wallflower. She'd seen things, she understood them and she kept quiet about them. Always. She'd seen through him from the very beginning and that was something that'd always impressed him. She'd been quiet mostly and nice to work with. Exactly what he'd needed. So he'd chosen her to be his pathologist of trust. And he'd really started to trust her over the years. Without him even noticing it she'd became an important part of his life and grew to someone he really appreciated. Molly Hooper had always been there for him, saved him several times. Most important of course, she'd helped him when he needed her most. Faking his suicide and afterwards. Somehow, during that time and after his return he must have fallen in love with her.

Molly understood him. She was smart… and clever and kind. She always knew what he needed and how to help him. She had a sense for him and that made her so special, because nobody else had. Beside that she was nice to look at of course. She had a perfectly symmetrical face, a small and nicely formed nose, beautiful brown eyes and a cute smile. There it was again, _cute_. But there was no better word to describe it, really. Not even for him.

After a few moments he stepped back again and released her from his arms, right after pressing a soft kiss on her lips.

"Right then. See you… soon?"

"Yes." Molly nodded, smiling happily at him. She was glad to have the burden removed from her shoulders.

* * *

Three days later Molly started to wonder if he was now acting the opposite of how he had done before. She hadn't seen Sherlock since their talk, only received a few rather formal texts. Then again, three days were nothing if he was busy with a case, so she decided that it was still better that way than before. She missed him, though.

Molly was standing in her bathroom, brushing her teeth and watching herself in the mirror, when she heard his keys opening her door. He still had them, of course. She'd given them to him after the fall, in case he needed somewhere to be, which had happened a few times.

Smiling, she spit out the toothpaste and flushed her mouth with water. Then she wiped the remains away from her mouth with a towel and rushed quickly out of the room.

She found him sitting on her couch, coat resting over the back of it. He looked up when she stepped into the living room, eyes lingering a bit longer on the upper part of her body, where she was just wearing her bra, because she'd been about to go to bed when he came in.

"Hi. Didn't expect you to come. But it's nice to see you." she said smiling. "Tea?"

Sherlock shrugged as he finally managed to look up into her eyes. "Sure."

Molly turned around to head for the kitchen, where she started setting on a kettle and searching through her tea collection for his favorite. She just found it, when he suddenly wrapped his arms around her from behind, his big hands touching the naked skin of her belly.

His touch sent a pleasurable sensation through her body and she couldn't help turning around in his arms to longingly press her lips against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he grabbed her around her waist to lift her up onto the counter.

"Did you miss me?" he asked between to kisses and Molly smiled, just to kiss him back more fiercely.

His hands were roaming over her body, while he slowly removed his lips from hers to kiss her neck and her cleavage. Molly knew instantly where this was leading but she didn't mind. She'd waited long enough for this.

Hastily, she started unbuttoning his shirt and shoved it roughly from his shoulders to touch his bare skin. It didn't take long for her bra to follow his shirt. Pressing her against him, he picked her up and carried her out of the kitchen and over to her bedroom, where he laid her down on her bed and crawled over her to continue kissing her lips, her neck and every part of her body he could reach.

Molly moaned quietly, enjoying the shivers his touches sent through her petite body. Sherlock removed her pants after a while with a quick move. She struggled a bit more with the button of his trousers, but he helped her and so they were gone just as quickly.

Slowing down their pace, Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his face down to hers to kiss him tenderly. She held him tightly and felt him shivering above her.

"Everything alright?" she asked, lips only millimeters apart from hers.

"Yes. Just… I feel… _happy_. Never felt it like that before."

"Well, that's one of the reasons people do this all the time, you know?"

"Hm. I see."

Molly sealed his lips with another kiss, hands softly caressing his back. She couldn't remember when she'd felt that aroused the last time. It took all her power to keep it slow and sensual.

His hands were wandering down, playing with the lace of her panties. It almost drove her crazy and he seemed to need like thousand years to finally remove it. When he did, she didn't hesitate a second to remove his boxer shorts too.

Smiling, she looked up into his eyes. His pupils were dilated and she knew exactly how he felt, because she felt just the same, except it was the first time for him. She nodded reassuringly and rested her hands on his hips to push him down slowly, to help him to softly enter her.

It felt like an explosion of feelings, electricity sizzling between them. They both groaned at the same time, kissing longingly and soon finding a steady but firm rhythm.

And Molly knew she'd never felt so complete in her life.

They fell asleep in each other's arms right after they were finished, both satisfied and feeling utterly happy.

* * *

The next day started for Molly with the smell of fresh tea and eggs wafting through the gap underneath her bedroom door. Smiling happily as she remembered the events of last night, she opened her eyes and stretched her limbs and yawned. Sherlock wasn't lying next to her, but he couldn't, considering the delicious smell in her flat. He was making her breakfast. She couldn't quite believe it. _Sherlock Holmes was making her breakfast. _

Still smiling like a dork, she sat up and searched for a hair tie on her bedside table to arrange her long hair into a ponytail. Then she slipped out of the bed, searching for something to cover her naked body. She wanted his shirt of course, because she loved wearing his shirts, but when she didn't find it she went for her pink bathrobe. As she was tiptoeing out of the bedroom, she heard him making noise in the kitchen, probably searching through her cupboards for the things he needed. As it happens, he was going through a drawer when she came into the kitchen.

"What do you need?" she asked with a soft smile, making him startle and turn around on the heels. He was only wearing his boxers and his unbuttoned shirt.

"Good morning. I can't find your plates, actually. They're not in the cupboards."

"No, they're down here." Molly pointed to a drawer at the bottom of the counter.

"Why do you keep your plates almost on the ground? It makes no sense."

She chuckled slightly and shook her head. "It's an old habit. My Mum used to keep them at the bottom, because she once managed to drop them on her own head – we had really high cupboards. Wasn't a really nice experience. Needed five stitches."

Sherlock couldn't help laughing at this. He laughed so rarely, it made her happy seeing him like that.

"That sounds ridiculous."

"It is. But it's true." Joining his laughter she went over to him, slipped her arms under his open shirt and hugged him tightly. Sherlock kissed her on the top of her head, before he freed himself from her arms and turned around to the counter again.

"I made breakfast and we should eat it now unless you like cold eggs."

"I don't."

He smiled. "I know."

Since Molly had her free day and Sherlock wasn't up to any new cases, they spent the day together in bed. Between kissing and making love they talked about interesting wounds at murder victims, pathologic techniques or memories from their childhood. Molly told him how she used to cut open defenseless frogs or insects in the kitchen, using her mother's expensive knives and how furious she would get when she caught her. And Sherlock told her how he did basically the same, except for the part where he hid the dissected animals under Mycroft's bed until they started to smell. Then his brother would chase him through the house, furious over the stinky, rotten thing under his bed and force him to remove it from there. Once he'd even cooked a frog and served it for Mycroft, together with pasta and tomato sauce.

Molly chuckled at Sherlock's stories and couldn't help feeling utterly comfortable, sitting with him in bed and listening to his stories. She was glad he shared them with her. Watching his face closely while he was talking she recognized that he seemed to be more at ease than she'd ever seen him before. Sometimes a small smile appeared on his face, sometimes he ran his fingers through his hair and looked at her, winking suggestively.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes." she said quietly after he'd finished another story about how he'd played pranks on Mycroft. It just came out, it just felt right to say it. It was the second time she did, but this time it felt completely different. Sherlock looked at her for a few minutes, blinking like his hard drive had an error.

"I never expected to be loved by anyone except my mother. It's like the time John told me I was his best friend. It still confuses me."

"It's nothing new, though. I already told you."

"I know. And it wasn't new before either, it was rather obvious. Still it _feels _different when you say it."

"Well, it's supposed to feel different."

Molly didn't expect him to say it back. Not yet. Of course she hoped he would someday, but it'd be ridiculous to expect it now. He kept quiet and crawled on top of her instead, wearing a small smile, to kiss her passionately. That answer was good enough for now. More than good enough.

* * *

_Two weeks. _It'd been two weeks since she'd seen him last. Since the day they'd spent in her bed. A new client had come to him the next day and since then he hadn't been seen. By her at least. He wouldn't answer the phone, only sent her some rather formal texts and she never met him at Baker Street. Molly was slowly getting furious. What if he made a habit out of that? Abandoning her for a case?

It was Friday morning when she got a call from John, telling her that he'd bring Sherlock over to the lab because he needed to pee in a jar. Molly could only guess what that meant.

When they arrived 20 minutes later, she knew for sure what it meant. He'd relapsed. At least he looked like he had. His eyes were red, he looked unwashed and tired and wore shabby clothes. Overall he looked like a dosser.

"I found him in a crack hole with dozens of other junkies. Wasn't even looking for him, but for my neighbor."

Molly didn't say a word. She gave Sherlock just a cool look and gave him a jar to pee in. She wanted to know for sure before she'd explode. He didn't say a word either.

Minutes later, when she knew for sure, her anger was even worse.

"Is he clean?" John asked from the other side of the room and Molly gave him an unbelieving look.

"Clean?!" She turned towards Sherlock, anger boiling up inside of her, a furious expression on her face. When she stood right in front of him, she stared up into his eyes that were glassy from the drugs. He wanted to say something, she could see it, but she cut him off before he could start by slapping him. Not once, not twice, but three times. She even felt like slapping him a few times more, but she reined herself in and tried to calm down a bit. She was still furious, though.

Sherlock grimaced with pain and held his cheek, looking down at her in shock. John, Mary and two other junkies they brought with them were staring at them.

"What is wrong with you?! How dare you throw away the beautiful gift you were born with? And how dare you betray the love of your friends?! Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry I didn't call you." he said defiantly. "It was for a case. I'm not relapsing."

"That's bullshit and you know it. Why, Sherlock? Why?"

"Can you please stop yelling?" He was still holding his cheek. She hadn't held off.

"No. No, I can't and you know why."

"Again, it was for a case. I couldn't call you because I hate talking on the phone and I was too busy to come over. Didn't you get my texts?"

"Oh, yeah, really nice texts. _Busy with a case. Still on the case. _What kind of case could possibly require you to use again? That's just an excuse. How can you be so irresponsible?"

"It was just for the case, for god's sake. You said it's okay that I need space for cases sometimes."

Molly snorted and turned away from him, throwing her arms in the air in a frustrated gesture.

"Could you please calm down?" Sherlock tried to touch her, but she flinched. He sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for everything. I'm an arsehole."

A small tear spilled down Molly's cheek. "Yes, you are. Don't do something like that again. Promise."

Sherlock wiped the tear away and pulled her closer. "I promise."

Then he kissed her softly and briefly on the lips.

"You need a shower." Molly said wrinkling her nose and Sherlock nodded.

Mary and John stared at the scene in front of them with wide eyes. John couldn't quite believe what he was witnessing. Away for two weeks and then that happened. Kissing at his wedding, fine, Sherlock _might having_ some feelings, fine. But that? That was so… _domestic_.

He just couldn't hold it back when they were leaving the lab again.

"You… have a girlfriend?"

"Yes, I have."

"Molly Hooper."

"Molly Hooper." Sherlock smiled while he said her name and John knew he was being serious. He was having a relationship and he was actually happy about it.

* * *

Molly was left with mixed feelings. She should have been more suspicious of him. After all, she hadn't seen him in _two weeks_ after an almost perfect day. That _was_ suspicious. And it was only now that she knew what he'd done that she realized it. How could he start using again? He'd said it'd been for a case, and she honestly believed him but it still wasn't an excuse. Nothing could ever excuse drug use. Nothing. Especially not for an ex-junkie like him.

How could he do that to her? Betray her like that? After the two weeks they'd spent together, after everything that had happened she'd supposed that something had changed. That he'd changed. But apparently he hadn't. Of course he hadn't. He would still do almost everything to solve a case, still had that excited gleam in his eyes when a new twist came up.

The thing was, she didn't want him to change. Not like that. All she wanted was him being safe. Using again had been selfish and irresponsible and she couldn't accept it just like that. She was still furious with him and that wouldn't change very soon.

With a relationship also came different responsibility. Sherlock had yet to learn that.

Molly just hoped he would soon.

* * *

The call came late in the evening. Molly was sitting on her couch, watching some romantic comedy when her phone rang. It was John. Sherlock had been shot, he said. Sherlock was dying, he said. From then on, everything around her was a blur. What had he done now? He couldn't, could he? He couldn't die. Not now. Not at all.

Like in trance she got dressed, grabbed her bag and was out of the house. She noticed nothing around her, she wasn't even really conscious. She couldn't even think. Everything was black. A blur. A tunnel in front of her eyes. Nothing mattered anymore. Sherlock was dying.

When she reached the hospital, she ran right into John. What happened, she asked. How he was doing, she asked. She felt her heartbeat accelerating. She wanted to breathe, but she couldn't. It felt like a heavy weight was lying on her chest. What if he said he was dead? What then?

Molly felt tears prickling in her eyes.

"He's alive, Molly. Shht. He's going to be okay. He was dead for a whole minute, but he came back. He's fine now. Shht." John's voice finally reached her and without knowing how she found herself crying in his arms.

"Can I see him?"

"Not yet. Soon."

Molly nodded and wiped away the tears from her cheeks. Feeling completely exhausted all of a sudden she sat down on a chair at the wall. "Tell me what happened. Everything."

**Yeah. That's it for now. I'm not 100% sure how I'll continue, because it's really kinda difficult. You all know what happened in the canon and well… yeah, I have to write the Janine aspect in, I just don't know in which way yet. Sticking to the canon? Change it because of reasons? Hmmm. I kinda like drama, so I'll probably don't make it too easy for all participants, hehe. Stay tuned xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Oh, dear. I know it's been a while again. I actually finished that one a while ago but I've been quite insecure about it so I didn't load it up. But here it comes now anyway. I've decided to stick to the canon a bit more and go for the drama – and I really hope you like that :D **

It was like a slap in her face. She felt so humiliated. It was like every headline on every newspaper these days was mocking her. Sherlock woke up two days after he'd been shot and Molly was sitting next to his bed, staring at one of the newspapers that read **"Shag-a-lot-Holmes – 7 times a night in Baker Street". **She was out of tears at that point. She was just exhausted and felt utterly humiliated. The events of the last few days had just been too much to handle for her.

"Molly." he whispered weakly as he finally opened his eyes. Molly squeezed his hand softly, not looking up to him. Instead she kept her eyes fixed on their hands.

Sherlock needed some moments before he began to speak. Apparently he remembered what had happened. "Good lord, that didn't go after plan. Mary…"

"What about Mary?"

"She…" he considered his reply for a moment "Ah, doesn't matter now, I guess." He didn't want to bother her with his discovery. He was sure the past few hours? days? must have been hard enough for her.

"Good. I think so too." Molly removed her hand from his and took a deep breath. She threw the newspaper next to him on the bed and he put it up with weak hands to look at it.

"Ah. Obviously. Of course she'd go to the press."

"Is that all you have to say to that?" Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she stared him directly into the pale blue eyes that still looked tired and weak.

"What else am I supposed to say? It was for a case, I thought you of all people would understand."

Molly stood up from her chair, shaking her head.

"You know what, you were right. You ARE an arsehole."

Sherlock looked up at her in confusion. "She's obviously lying. I didn't sleep with her."

"And why would I believe that? John told me something different."

"I kissed her a few times to keep up the façade, that's all. I just needed her to break into Magnussen's office."

"Well, I heard different things."

"Bathing together is not the same as having sex."

Molly just rolled her eyes at that and turned around to leave. "You know what? Screw you! You're just like everyone else. Just like Tom, cheating on me. And like Jim, using people for your own purpose."

"Oh, come on, Molly. I am not. It didn't mean a thing it was just for the case."

"I don't care. You know… there are… there are rules when you are in a relationship. You can't just go around and take drugs and sleep with other people just because a case requires it. You can't." Molly felt tears coming up, but she really didn't want to cry in front of him. "I'm going now."

Sherlock sighed, pain filling his chest. He didn't even know if it was physical pain from his wound or pain caused from sentiment, because he already sensed what was about to happen.

"Will you come back tomorrow?"

"Why would I?"

"Because that's what girlfriends do, don't they?"

Now she would say it. The pain in his chest increased and he instinctively turned up the morphine. He didn't want to hear it. But he knew he'd screwed up.

"Yeah. But I'm not sure if I'm still your girlfriend, Sherlock."

It hurt. It hurt so much. It hurt Molly to say it, but she knew it was the only possible thing she could say. She just couldn't forgive him just yet. And it hurt Sherlock to hear it. More than he'd ever admit.

He'd promised. He'd promised not to hurt her. But he'd failed. After only four weeks. What had he been thinking? He'd risked so much for her. And of course he knew what Tom and Moriarty had done to her. She didn't deserve this. And he did neither. He'd treated her _and_ himself like crap. Just out of old habits.

"Stay. Please?" he said quietly, even though he knew she wouldn't.

"I can't, Sherlock."

"I… love you."

Molly's heart stopped for a moment as she took in his words. It sounded a bit like a question, probably a question for her to stay. It still meant a lot to her. Why did he have to say it _now_ of all moments? When she looked up into his eyes she smiled sadly. "I know."

She really did. She knew. And she believed him. She knew him well enough to read the signs. But it wasn't enough right now. Maybe she would forgive him one day. She probably would. But she couldn't just yet. It was just too much.

Molly's eyes lingered on him a few seconds longer before she turned around and left him alone.

* * *

Sherlock was staring at the ceiling when John came in. Considering the expression on his face and the sweat on his forehead he was obviously in pain. But that was no wonder, considering that he'd cut off the morphine supply. John turned it back up and gave his best friend a worried look.

"What's wrong?"

"Molly. Left. … Me."

"And you're seriously surprised about that? You cheated on her. Just like Tom did. I still don't know how you could do that to her."

"It's not the same. First of all, it was for a case and second, I didn't sleep with Janine."

"You didn't? Well, even if not…What you did was enough to wreck a fragile heart like Molly's."

Sherlock sighed. "I know. How can I ever make this up to her?"

"Do you want to?"

"Of course I do. " he felt the morphine starting to take effect. "I… _love._ Her. I'm not used to that. I never thought something like that could happen to me…Oh, and I know now why you people like having sex. It's rather brilliant. Better than being high even."

John blinked a few times before he shook his head in disbelief. Sherlock and relationship stuff – that was still an unfamiliar area.

"Wow. WOW. Never expected to hear something like _that _from you."

The morphine was slowly taking Sherlock away. His eyelids began to flutter and he turned his head on the side. Sleep. Sleep would help. Maybe he would be able to think clear again after.

"Shhhe's so beautiful, John. Haavvve you seen her eyes? Aand that cute little nose? Shhe undersssstands me – to a degree. Can you believe thhhat? Nobody… does…"

His eyes were already closed when he spoke, voice sleepy and drawn-out. In the next moment he was fast asleep. The morphine had finally taken him over.

John smiled slightly and shook his head once again. "Oh, Sherlock."

* * *

Molly didn't come. Sherlock hoped every day that she would show up despite her words, but she didn't. He sent her several texts every day, but he knew it wouldn't help. He'd hurt her and now he'd have to pay the price.

John was just as devastated. After he'd found out who Mary really was and that she'd shot his best friend, everything seemed to fall apart for him too.

Two pathetic blokes, they were! Bloody sentiment had finally taken them down. And Sherlock knew once again, why he'd always refused to _feel_. And why Mycroft had always told him that it was a bad thing. But at the same time he couldn't regret that he'd allowed himself to love Molly Hooper. He just couldn't. Even though it hurt now and he hated that feeling. He was a pathetic wimp, nothing more.

From now on, he would go back to be colder towards the world around him. Except Molly, of course. He wanted to make everything up to her, wanted to win her back. But the rest of the world wouldn't see any more of this nicer version of him. It was dangerous and it made him vulnerable. He'd just keep his feelings inside of him, like he always had.

The following weeks were horrible. The white walls of the hospital were driving him insane and he was feeling more bored than ever before in his life. Uselessly lying around all day was dull and even worse since he couldn't stop thinking about Molly. He wondered whether she would forgive him one day and cringed at the thought of her being mad at him for the rest of her life. In the rare moments she didn't appear in his mind, he was breeding over Magnussen and how he could bring him down once he was released from the hospital.

Sometimes Sherlock would throw things through his room just out of boredom. Once he even threw a newspaper after a nurse who wouldn't stop annoying him. All in all he was in a very dark mood and felt the strong urge to either destroy something or to take drugs again. He knew it was wrong and he wouldn't do it if only for Molly.

John visited him a few times every week, but since he was being in the same dark mood he wasn't really of much help. When he came they sat together in silence, watching TV or just being depressive together.

"Have you heard from Molly yet?" John would ask from time to time and Sherlock would just answer: "No. Have you talked to Mary?" and John would say: "No."

But the weeks passed somehow and after one month Sherlock decided to release himself, because he couldn't bear the walls around him any longer. Mycroft arranged a mobile medical service for him for 221B, so that he would at least still be taken care of.

"I'm not a child, Mycroft. No need for you to pick me up and bring me home." Sherlock said when Mycroft was waiting for him in the doorway of his hospital room.

"Of course not. I'm just making sure that you won't bring yourself in any new trouble on the way home."

"Who says I want to go home anyway?" He put on his coat and ruffled his hair. He had in fact not planned on going home just yet. Instead he wanted to try and talk to Molly. He hadn't seen her in a month now and he missed her terribly, even though he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"Where else would you want to go?"

Sherlock didn't answer and Mycroft sighed. "Of course. The sweet Miss Hooper again."

"It's DOCTOR Hooper. And that's none of your business."

"Are you even sure she wants to see you?"

"Well, I'll try. Just drop me of at hers', if you would?"

Mycroft shrugged. He knew Sherlock wouldn't listen to him if he said something. Not anymore. He would do what he wanted and right now he wanted that _Doctor_ Hooper. He'd said he loved her. Did he really? Mycroft had always assumed that he and Sherlock were equal when it came to sentiment, but apparently they weren't at all. While he was still cold when it came to romantic attachment, Sherlock had developed romantic feelings for an ordinary girl. Then again, Sherlock had always been more prone to feelings and attachments. One just had to remember Red Beard.

When the brothers were sitting together in the car, Mycroft couldn't help staring curiously at Sherlock. But his curiosity turned into a smug smirk really quickly.

"Mother can't wait to meet your girlfriend, you know?" he said.

"What? How would she… oh. Of course. _You_ told her. Can you tell me why you would do that?!"

"Well, I thought now that you two were getting serious… She's over the moon by the way."

"I don't even know if she forgives me." Sherlock gritted his teeth. "HOW am I supposed to explain that to Mother?"

"Tell her the truth. That her lovely son is a smutty cheater." Mycroft laughed in amusement and Sherlock cringed. He still didn't feel like he was a cheater but apparently the whole world considered him one.

Anger was boiling up inside of him. It was obvious that Mycroft was just jealous, because he was lonely most of the time. Well, he chose to be lonely, but Sherlock knew that deep inside of him Mycroft wasn't that much different from him. Not that he would ever admit it.

"You know, you should have sex once in a while. It releases the tension."

"Oh, so you're an expert now? Have you finally gotten deflowered?"

Sherlock snorted and stared out of the window.

"No wonder you're so attached to that Hooper-girl. The first one you'll never forget they say, don't they?"

"Don't talk about her like that. She has a proper name."

Mycroft sighed. "When did you get so sentimental?! Are you sure you haven't bumped your head while faking that fall?"

"Believe it or not, but things change. People change. And change isn't always _that_ bad."

"Sherlock, you're seriously scaring me. How so? Enlighten me."

"Nah, I don't feel like sharing my thoughts to that topic with you. You wouldn't understand anyway."

"Well. Never say I didn't warn you."

Sherlock didn't answer to that. He was tired of discussing with Mycroft. He'd already had all these discussions in his head and he was over it now. He'd accepted that he wasn't as cold-hearted as he wanted to be and that he _loved_. No need to go over it again. And he seriously doubted that Mycroft would understand any of it anyway.

Twenty minutes later Sherlock knocked on Molly's door. His heart was beating fast in his chest. He really hoped Molly would talk to him… and maybe even forgive him. But he didn't want to hope too much. Apparently he'd really screwed up with her without even wanting it.

Molly opened after a minute. She was wearing one of her ugly jimjams and her hair was a mess. It fell open and tousled over her shoulders and over her face. He could only see one of her eyes, because the other one was covered with hair. In her small hands she held a pack of Ice Cream.

"Sherlock?" she asked in confusion and wiped away the hair from her face.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course I am."

"You don't look like you're okay. May I come in?"

Molly just shrugged. "Sure." Then she turned around again on her heels and scuffled back towards her living room. Something was seriously wrong with her, he could tell. Closing the door, he followed her and pulled off his coat. Molly sat down on her couch and wrapped herself up in a blanket, eyes staring blankly on the TV screen where some old movie was on.

"Okay. What's wrong?" Sherlock asked as he sat down beside her.

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"I… guess… I am?"

"Well, you know best what's wrong."

"But it's been over a month." He would have thought she was stronger than that. That she could handle everything. But apparently she couldn't. He must have hurt her even worse than he'd thought.

Molly laughed bitterly. "Exactly."

"I didn't sleep with her. I promise."

She shrugged, eyes continuing to stare on the screen.

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I thought it does."

Molly shrugged again, brining a big spoon of ice cream to her mouth.

"Will you forgive me then?" He was begging. He really was begging. It scared him that he even felt the need to. After all, Sherlock Holmes just didn't beg. But he did.

A shrug. Again. "I guess."

"Okay."

That was all they said to each other that evening. There was an awkward silence between them, just like their talk had been more than awkward and so Sherlock quickly decided to leave again. Molly just noticed it with another shrug. Sherlock was worried about her, but didn't quite know what to do, so he just flew. Something was wrong with her and he needed to find out what it was.

* * *

Three weeks later they still had barely talked properly. They'd seen each other a few times and even kissed once, though very shortly, but there was still this awkward tension between them. When Sherlock asked her to accompany him to his parents on the weekend she agreed, but it didn't seem like she cared. It was like she was the mere ghost of herself. There was nothing left of the positive and confident, smiling Molly Hooper. Instead it was like she was depressed. Sherlock tried to deduce her every time he saw her but somehow failed miserably. He just couldn't think properly when he was around her right now. He was too worried about her wellbeing and their future.

Molly smiled around his parents, was nice and friendly, but Sherlock saw through her, just like she'd always seen through him. He must have really hurt her. That was the only possible explanation why she was so miserable. And the bad thing was he knew he'd have to disappoint her another time to finally get Magnussen.

John had finally forgiven Mary, which was a good thing since one miserable couple in the house of his parents was more than enough. Once he found Molly and Mary whispering in a corner but couldn't make out what they were talking about.

His mother was really over the moon though, just like Mycroft had said. She loved Molly and even more the thought that her younger son had finally found someone. Someone who was nice and ordinary. Someone stable. She even asked Mycroft when he'd bring her a daughter-in-law, which made him furious, Sherlock uncomfortable and Molly blushing.

When they had a moment on their own in the living room, Sherlock once again tried to talk to Molly. She'd looked at him in that special way all day and he was wondering what that was about now. Their whole situation confused him and he hated confusion.

"You're really trying, aren't you?" she said, smiling slightly at him. It was the first time in weeks that she did that.

"I am."

"Why?"

"I meant what I said in the hospital."

"Yeah and I believe you. It's just… I don't think I can trust you anymore, Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed in frustration. "I'll be honest with you about every case from now on."

"Why is this so important to you? You used to loathe sentiment. You said it was unnecessary and dangerous. Sherlock Holmes doesn't beg. Wasn't that your motto?"

"I still loathe it. It still is stupid, unnecessary and despicable. But I can't help wanting to be with you. I'm better with you. I needed some time to figure it out, but it is indeed true that I, Sherlock Holmes, am madly in love with you, Molly Hooper."

Molly stepped forward and cupped his cheek in her hand. "You're so different. Like you said months ago. Everything changed since you came back."

"Do you…" Sherlock started, but paused for a moment, "Do you… still love me?" He sounded insecure, almost shy.

Molly smiled up to him. "Of course I do. I never stopped. But sometimes love's not enough."

"Still think that I'm one of the good ones?"

She remembered her words almost as if she'd said them only yesterday. She considered her answer for a few moments.

"Yes. Yes, I do. Because I know you don't hurt people on purpose. It just happens."

Sherlock nodded. "It just happens."

Molly sighed and stepped back again, worry lines appearing on her forehead. She took a deep breath, then forced herself to look into his eyes again.

"Actually, there's something I need to tell you. Something important."

He frowned at this and gave her a curious look. He wasn't used to not knowing what was going on. Usually he could look through people, read the signs… but not with Molly anymore. Something had started to block his view.

"It's…"

Molly merely started her sentence when Sherlock's mother came in and smiled happily when she found them standing relatively close together. Molly gave him an apologizing look and shrugged slightly.

"Ah, there you are! Dinner is ready."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He really wanted to know what Molly had to say. But he knew it'd have to wait. He wanted to shoo his mother out again with a snappish comment, but he reined himself in. Molly didn't like it when he was rude and he really didn't want to risk anything with her right now.

**A/N: Yeah, well, drama, drama, dramaaa. More drama in the next chapter. :) Which will come online soon, I hope. xx**


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